Pink Pansies and Blue Silk

Stench Of Roses

Pansy rolled over and her eyes opened. She blinked away sleep, stretching while still horizontal. The sunlight pouring through her window had brightened, and she guessed by the position of the sun it was just past noon. Her bed was warm and comfortable - but the nagging, anxious fear in the back of her head pulled her to her feet. She changed back into her green velvet dress, smoothing down the cotton petticoats and lacing up her boots. She checked her reflection in the full-length mirror leaning against the dark green wallpaper, fluffing up the ends of her inky hair.
Pansy picked up Hermione's book, tucked her translation into the same page as the original poem and fitting it into the front pocket of her still hanging coat.
Satisfied, Pansy removed the chair from under the doorknob, snatched a dark ivy coat from the back of the door and stepped out of her room. She shut the door behind her, resisting the urge to kick the tray down the spiralled metal staircase. She settled for sneering at it, clicking her way down the stairs and across the hallway.
Half way down the corridor, she paused outside her father's door. She could smell the overpowering stench of roses seeping out from under the door. Pansy tiptoed closer, leaning her ear against the door without setting down her heels.
If she strained, she could just about hear the silkily whispered poison her stepmother was pouring into her father's ears.
Pansy grimaced and leaned away from the door, covering her mouth and nose with her hand. The roses were overpowering, suffocating and she stumbled backwards, away from the door. Pansy almost fled the corridor, stumbling down the stairs and into the hallway. The hallway was empty, as always - she took the chain off the front door one-handed, fumbled it open and staggered into the street. She steadied herself on the wall overlooking the river. Pansy took deep breaths, shaking.
Two minutes of staring into roiling waters later, Pansy straightened and shook her head. She pushed herself off of the wall, brushing grit off of her hands and walking down the street.
Pansy swung her coat onto her shoulders, smoothing down the wool and cuffing the ends of her sleeves. She keep walking, subconsciously heading for the Bodleian Library. She knew Hermione would be there - she had no lessons on a Tuesday morning, and despite the bleakness and morning chill, Hermione would be curled up in some warm corner with a history book.
Pansy stepped into a hot chocolate house on her way there, re-emerging with two steaming glasses and a promise to return them later. She wouldn't.

Twenty minutes later, Hermione dragged her gaze away from a history of a mysterious Scottish school which dropped off all maps centuries ago, looking up to see Pansy sit down in a plush armchair opposite her. Pansy looked sleek and chic and out of place against the tall oak shelves of well-thumbed books, worn hardwood floors and mismatched armchairs. Hermione, with a mass of dark curls and a stack of books on the table between them, looked right at home.
"Good afternoon," Hermione said. She had always felt comfortable around Pansy, now more than ever - but the events of the morning sent panic down her spine. There were others in the Library, others who could notice and infer and conspiracise.
Pansy frowned at her. "Good afternoon to you too, Miss Overly Formal."
Hermione flushed, lifting up the thick, leather-bound book. She glanced from side to side before lowering the book.
"What are you doing here?"
"I came to see you." Pansy shrugged, offering Hermione the hot chocolate. Hermione took it, smiling gratefully. She hadn't moved in hours, absorbed in the pages and spidery ink.
"What are you reading?" Pansy asked, drinking her own drink.
"It's a series of entries about this enormous, ancient school that disappeared without a trace in the 15th century," Hermione said, eyes back on the page. "You know the one."
"I absolutely don't." Pansy said, grinning.
Hermione glanced up and paused. "I know that smile," she said, eyes narrowing. "You're in the mood for trouble."