Beauty From Pain

Chapter Thirty

"That's not funny, Pansy." Hermione dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her napkin and tried to breath past the burn of the wine still caught in her lungs.

"Does it look like I'm laughing?" Pansy had gone horribly pale, all of the color draining from her face as she looked anywhere but at Hermione. She looked like she wanted to vomit or run out of the restaurant. "There is absolutely nothing funny about being drunk enough to bring a Weasley home with me."

Hermione tried to gather her thoughts, but she felt like her brain was just spinning in circles. She genuinely could not wrap her mind around the fact that Pansy would even speak to Charlie Weasley, let alone... "You slept with him?" Hermione glanced around them to make sure no one was listening and then cast a quick muffliato just in case. "What does that even mean?"

"I fucking shagged him, Hermione. What else is there?" Pansy waved down a waiter for a refill of her wine glass and immediately drank a deep sip of it. "I shagged a Weasley."

Hermione wanted to laugh because Pansy said it like she was announcing the death of a close friend. "It's not the end of the world."

Pansy's expression closed off, and a flush of anger rose to her cheeks. "I did not come here to be mocked," she said. "If that is your intention, you may go."

"I'm not making fun of you." Hermione let her hair down from its messy bun and began putting it back up again, the movements of her fingers in her hair soothing her scrambled thoughts. She couldn't believe the notorious Pansy Parkinson managed to not only bring a Gryffindor home with her, and not only a Weasley, but the most elusive Weasley brother with the most non-Slytherin job that could possibly exist. She felt like her whole world had tilted on its axis. She asked without thinking, "How drunk were you?"

"Not nearly as drunk as I would have liked," Pansy muttered. She swirled her wine in the glass, looking into its garnet depths as though the wine held all the answers she was looking for. Based on the night before, it held nothing for her but trouble. "Now do you understand why I asked you to come to lunch with me instead of Draco or, Morgana forbid, Blaise?"

A sharp laugh escaped her, and Hermione quickly pressed her fingers to her lips. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to laugh."

The corner of Pansy's lips quirked up into a reluctant smile. "It is quite funny to imagine," she said. "Draco would be all righteous indignation, huffing and puffing about the terrible Weasleys and their horridly red hair."

Hermione pulled a face that was strikingly similar to Draco's stern expression. She deepened her voice and said, "Really, Pansy? A weasel? You should have more class than that. Any wizard would be better than one of them."

Pansy was trying to hide her laughter behind her napkin, but her dark eyes were crinkling in the corners, and Hermione could see her shoulders shaking.

Pleased to see the witch looking less miserable, Hermione went on, "I mean honestly, Pansy, they're so Gryffindor that it bleeds into their bloody hair. You really looked at all those Salazar-damned freckles and said, 'let me shag that'? Have you completely taken leave of your senses?"

"Merlin, he really would." Pansy was laughing hard enough to bring tears to her eyes and a rosy pink to her cheeks. She had the faintest laugh lines next to her eyes that made her look even more warm and inviting when she smiled. Hermione was so used to seeing Pansy with her cold and reserved expressions, her eyes only ever showing an echo of her true emotions, that it was a startling change to see her so openly enjoy herself.

"It really isn't the end of the world." At Pansy's doubtful look, she said, "Honestly, what's the worst that could happen?"

Pansy looked like she wanted to protest, but she eventually nodded her head in agreement. The initial panic and horror at what she had done finally faded, and Pansy let a relieved sigh escape her. "In the end, it was just one night, right?"