the way i loved you

1

Standing on the old wooden platform of 9 3/4 was the last place Pansy Parkinson wanted to be on this chilly morning. She cursed under her breath as she was once again shoved by the other students waiting for the Hogwarts Express. Coming back for eighth year had not been her choice, definitely not. Apparently the Wizengamot believed another year at the torture chamber would straighten her out and fix all the Deatheater-ness.

As if that could possibly work.

When she was shoved for the tenth time she finally broke. She grabbed the cackling boy's arm and gripped it so tight it was sure to leave marks.

"Is there a reason you keep invading my personal space?" Her dark eyes blazed down at the small boy. He couldn't have been older than twelve, maybe thirteen.

"Yeah," he stated with a brave smirk before looking back at his wide-eyed friends, "you're Deatheater scum!" He shouted and spit a wad of slimy residue on her clean robes. Her nose scrunched in disgust but willed herself to calm down. He was looking scared now, afraid she would kill him like the big bad Deatheater she was. Instead she loosened her grip and turned sharply on her heel, apparating out of the train station as quickly as possible.

Pansy managed to get pretty close to the school, but she was still in Hogsmeade due to the anti-apparation wards. She grumbled to herself whilst using her wand to Scourgify the spit away, brushing herself off before starting for the school. The Three Broomsticks caught her eye, one drink couldn't hurt, right?

Waltzing through the doors she was met with more icy glares. Trying to keep her head high she slid onto a barstool. The two people beside of her stood up, taking their drinks and leaving. She rolled her eyes and set her elbows on the bar.

"What can I get-" Rosmerta started before she turned and saw Pansy sitting there, "Oh, it's you. What do you want?" The bartender said with a hostile tone that made Pansy's blood boil. It wasn't even her that cursed Rosmerta! It was stupid fucking Draco. The little ferret was always making things so difficult for her.

"Just Firewhiskey, please." Rosmerta gave a curt nod, floating Pansy's glass over and proceeding to ignore her. This was life now, forever trapped in her past no matter how hard she tries to move forward.

"Hey, Rosmerta! Just a butterbeer for me, thanks," Pansy hears a sickly sweet voice drawl from a few stools away. When she looked over she was surprised to see Granger, all alone but pulling a book out from her bag.

Pansy managed to catch the title, scoffing when she saw Hogwarts : A History printed on the front. Granger must have heard her because her head snapped up fast, bushy hair falling into her eyes. Pansy's hands itched to push it back, but that would be obsurd; especially considering Granger hated her.

Despite their current relationship status, or lack thereof, Pansy couldn't help but notice that Hermione Granger had become fit. Her lips were red and full, skin a deep brown but lacking blemishes she had a few years ago. From what she could tell she'd filled out in other places too. It's safe to say Pansy Parkinson was impressed, an odd thing to feel towards Granger.

Her train of thought was interrupted by a crumpled up napkin hitting her face.

"Oi! What the fuck was that for?"

"Well, you were staring and ignoring me, so I needed to get your attention somehow." Pansy must have looked surprised because Granger snickered and took a sip of her butterbeer before moving seats until she was directly to Pansy's left.

"What are you doing, Granger?"

"Why, i'm moving closer to you, Parkinson." Pansy grit her teeth and tightened her grip on her small glass.

"I can see that, but why?"

"Well we're both here so we might as well sit together." That logic didn't really make sense to Pansy, but she decided to drop it and turned back to her nearly empty drink. "Excited for this year, then?" Granger asked.

"Is that what we're doing now?"

"What?" So she's going to play innocent.

"We're just going to sit here and small talk like the past seven years never happened? Why are you here, Granger? Don't you have Potter and Weaselbee to tend to?" Granger's eyes sparked and her mouth pinched quite harshly.

"Forgive me for trying to be polite and move past our...differences."

"Differences? I'm a Deatheater remember, or do I need to show you?" Pansy goes to pull up her shirt sleeve but Granger cuts her off.

"No! I know what you were. I just thought we could try and be civil this year," her eyes were pleading, begging for Pansy to listen. Too bad.

"Okay, sure Granger, and I'm supposed to believe that?" Fuck this. Pansy pushes back the stool quickly, making it screech against the dirty bar floor. She shot back the rest of her drink without flinching before turning on her heel and storming out. She only glanced back as the door was closing, but still managed to catch the defeated slump of Granger's shoulders and feel a bit bad about it before shaking it off.

No distractions, just get through this year and you'll be free to move countries and never come back.

Pansy wrapped her arms around herself, keeping her warmth close to her as she climbs the massive hill to Hogwarts. Once inside she let her arms drop and made her way to the Great Hall, preparing herself for the stares and whispers.

Her suspicions were correct, when she walked in the whole room silenced and eyes followed her frame as she waltzed to the Slytherin table.

She was stopped before she could slide onto one of the benches.

"Ms. Parkinson, all eighth years will be dining at the table in the back," Minerva McGonagall told her with a stern look. Pansy rolled her eyes but turned around anyways, coming face to face with none other than Hermione fucking Granger.