Weep No More

Southbire was not known as a town that took care of its dungeons. An endless pit of crossing hallways under the main town of Southbire, Pansy found herself chained in a dungeon that smelled like urine and decaying corpses. The flies and rats were the only other living creatures in there with her. Andrew had immediately wrapped the chains around her wrists and ankles, barely allowing her to move. She was stuck to this wall, and it didn't seem like she was going to be let go any time soon.

Draco and the others had not been allowed to follow her. Despite his insults and wild punches, Andrew had managed to keep Draco out. Percy and Hermione tried to hold him still, whispering something Pansy couldn't hear. William had stared at the sky, then excused himself, saying he'd come back later. Pansy didn't trust him at all, and she was willing to put the blame of her capture on him.

"The trial begins an hour after sunrise," a cold voice told her.

Pansy didn't need to lift her head to see Andrew. His presence alone was enough to disgust her. She didn't flatter him with an answer either.

"You have nothing to say on your behalf?" Andrew asked, his tone amused.

She wanted to know about the trial. She had read on it; read how the trials were all faked. But Pansy remained quiet, staring at a random spot on the floor.

"Roget believes you should have a trial," Andrew continued, "but I don't. I know what you are, witch, and you should be burned immediately."

Pansy clenched her fists, and bit her lip to stop her from saying anything.

But Andrew wasn't done with her. "What did it feel like, witch, to have those innocent people under your spell? Did you have fun with the boys? Did you enjoy the girl?"

Shut up, you filthy Muggle, Pansy mentally screamed, trying not to actually shout it.

"They still believe in you," said Andrew. He was looking at Pansy angrily. "You must like that. Seeing your victims defend you. Seeing them offer their lives instead of yours."

Pansy's head shot up at that. Offering their lives for hers?

Andrew smirked. "The blond boy," he explained. "But I think he was just being polite. He acts like you're his world, but we all know how he looks at that other girl."

Pansy narrowed her eyes at Andrew, but offered no comment. Liar, her mind screamed, Draco would never look at that Mudblood.

"I know that look." Andrew was talking casually, as if he and Pansy were discussing gardening over tea and crumpets. "Those looks of lust and protectiveness. Tell me, witch, were they lovers before you played them?"

Liar, liar, liar! Pansy's mind screamed.

Andrew just smiled pleasantly. "You know, Fiona was telling me she spotted them snogging a few days ago. Says the girl looked mighty surprised, but didn't stop him."

"You're lying," Pansy hissed, her eyes burning into his.

Andrew grinned. He moved closer to her, stepping over something that looked like it could have been a hand. "I bet he fucked her while you were having supper down with us mere mortals. I bet he took her over and over while you ate your soup, thinking up new spells." Andrew backed away, a cocky smile on his face.

Pansy's faced was flushed with anger. If she hadn't been bound to the walls, she would have killed him. "Stop it," she demanded. "I don't believe you."

"I know you had him," Andrew continued. "I know you did, witch, but I bet he was thinking of her. When his hands roamed through your body, when he smelled your hair, I bet he was thinking of her, wishing it were her instead of you."

"Shut up!" snapped Pansy. "I said I don't believe you!"

"Aye, but you do, witch," Andrew said. Pansy was trembling, trying to block out his voice. "You felt it as well, didn't you? How he thinks of her. How he watches her when he thinks you're not looking."

Don't listen to him, a voice said in Pansy's head. He's just trying to get on your nerves. You know better than that, Pansy.

The voice sounded a lot like her Professor Snape's, which sort of made Pansy giggle.

Andrew looked confused. "What are you laughing at?" he demanded.

"Malfoy's got money in the bin; he's never let a Mudblood in. That's why Slytherins sing, Malfoy is our king," Pansy started singing softly, desperate to bury Andrew's voice. "Malfoy's got money in the bin..."

Andrew sneered. "Chanting, witch? Too good to play with me?"

"That's why Slytherins sing, Malfoy is our king," continued Pansy, closing her eyes to avoid seeing Andrew.

She could tell he was getting angry. He kept looking like he wanted to hit her. She raised her voice, putting more confidence into the silly little song Zabini and Millicent had invented.

"Listen to me, witch!" roared Andrew, his patience clearly gone.

"...he's never let a Mudblood in. That's why Slytherins sing..."

"Don't play denial with me. I know you're dying because he loves her. He touches her, he breathes in her."

"Malfoy's got money in the bin; he's never let a Mudblood in..." continued Pansy, closing her eyes tighter, her voice rising with every word.

Andrew lifted his arm to strike her when suddenly Roget's voice broke bought his and Pansy's thoughts. "Andrew!" he snapped. "Get here, boy."

Pansy opened her eyes slowly, regaining her breath. Roget looked extremely angry with Andrew, and Percy, who was standing beside Roget, was smiling innocently.

"She was trying to bewitch me, sir," Andrew said.

"Then you should have left," Roget said. "Go prepare the trial." Andrew shot one loathing look at Pansy and hurried away. Roget turned to Percy. "I'll give you five minutes to speak to her, and then I'll take you back. You shall have your privacy."

Pansy watched critically as Roget moved away, and Percy approached her. "Hi," he said softly, taking in her messy state.

Pansy lifted her head proudly. Like with Andrew, she didn't offer Percy any words.

"That's an interesting little song," Percy said. His hands hovered over her bruises, but he didn't touch her.

Pansy offered him a small smile, but still no words.

"We'll get you out of here," Percy whispered, his fingers brushing away her hair from her face.

Pansy found the gesture too intimate for her, and pulled away from him. "Go to Dublin," she said softly.

"None of us are willing to leave you here," Percy said stubbornly. "Hermione says we're united in this, and if separate now we'll fall."

Pansy's eyes darkened at the mention of Hermione, but pushed her thoughts away. Andrew was lying, she scolded herself, now is not the time to hate Granger.

"I - I have an idea," Percy continued, his voice only loud enough for her to hear. "I had a quick conversation with William, and we have a plan. Malfoy and Hermione don't know about it, yet. It's too... tricky, you might say. It could go wrong."

Pansy frowned. Would a messed up plan be better than dying by Muggle hands? Could she trust Percy to do the right thing? She desperately wanted Draco by her side.

"I don't know if they'll let me talk to you again," Percy said, his words becoming rushed. "I don't know if I can talk to you during the trial even. But, if this plan does go through... and it's successful, I'll tell you one thing."

"Yes?" Pansy said. She wanted water. Her throat was becoming dry.

"Whatever doubt you have, only after your burning, though, if you have any doubt, flee to William," said Percy solemnly. "Better yet, whatever happens to you after the burning, go to William."

Pansy looked bewildered. "What, Weasley, if I'm confused about where I would like my ashes to be buried?"

Percy just stood up, offered her a quick smile, and went to meet with Roget, who was waiting by the cell door.

Pansy suddenly felt alone and frightened.

*

Draco was absolutely furious, and was proving such emotion by storming around the small room he and Hermione were in.

"Malfoy, sit down," Hermione begged, looking tired.

Draco continued pacing.

"You're not helping Parkinson this way," Hermione continued.

"Sitting down won't help her either," Draco spat as Percy entered the room.

"She's all right," Percy said. "She's got a few minor bruises, but they aren't lethal or to be worried about. She's chained to a wall in the pit of hell, so I think she's more afraid of getting dirty than actually dying."

Draco frowned, and Hermione gave a feeble smile.

"Her trial should be soon, but Roget has told me we won't be able to talk to her then." Percy looked doubtful about something. "If she is found guilty, she'll be burned at nightfall, possibly around eight."

"She will be found guilty, won't she?" asked Hermione. "I read that they cheat at these trials."

"She will be found guilty," Percy confirmed, but he offered no more on that matter.

"How do we save her?" Draco demanded.

"I don't know," Percy said. "Southbire seems set on making her a witch, so a witch she will be."

"They'll kill her," Hermione whispered.

"We have to stop them!" Draco looked paler than usual.

Percy shook his head, and said, "I need to go speak with William. I'll be back for the trial." He pulled on his cloak, and pocketed his wand. "I don't want either of you leaving this room. All right, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded. "Percy, we need to save Parkinson. We can't let her die here."

"I'm more afraid of you dying here, Hermione," Percy said angrily. "How long do you have?"

"What?" asked Hermione, confusedly.

"Malfoy told me you had a fit before. How long do you have?"

"I -" Hermione didn't finish.

"Hermione, you need to tell me!" Percy yelled.

Tears had started flowing down Hermione's face again. She looked like a small lost girl. Percy's heart broke in two. "Hermione," he said softly.

"Only one can survive," she said. "It's either me or Parkinson. Either she dies today, or I'll die within two, three days if we're lucky. It's one or the other."

Both Percy and Draco froze at the news. It wasn't a battle for survival anymore, now it was a choice that would lead one of their girls to death.

"Weasley," said Draco, his voice hoarse. "Weasley, what are we going to do?"

Percy had gathered Hermione in his arms, letting her cry into his cloak. He was putting his brain to the test, quickly going over all possibilities. His instinct obviously told him to save Hermione, but he knew it would be unfair to leave Pansy to her death.

If they saved Pansy, Hermione had two days to live. Would two days be enough to get her to Dumbledore's care? Could he risk that?

Setting Hermione down in a chair, he brushed his lips over hers soothingly. Hermione looked at him, blushing. Draco rolled his eyes. "I'll think of something," Percy promised her. "I need to go talk to William before the trial."

Percy nodded to Draco, and left the room. His footsteps echoed in the hallway.