YOU DIDN'T MEAN TO • PANSMIONE

( FIVE ! )

MEET ME IN THE library after lessons,

H. Granger

Pansy couldn't help herself - she grinned. Hermione's neat, but very small, cursive handwriting swept across the little scrap of paper, quiet but forceful, just like the girl herself. And Pansy was willing to obey. Working with Granger couldn't be that bad, could it? She seemed funny, if a little flustered, and Pansy was unwilling to leave her to work alone. And mostly, Pansy wanted to make something up to Hermione, after all those years of petty taunts and cruel jibes directed at a girl that she really didn't know at all. How had she lived with herself?

Because she had wanted Draco, that was why.

All she had ever desired was for someone to notice her, and to praise her, and to see her as their shining light in a dark world. She'd never received that from her parents - oh, she could never be good enough for them. And she was small, and a little squat; clingy and annoying - no one at school would ever just simply like her. So she had had to impress them, with her wit, by following their lead, by making them laugh. By distracting them from really seeing her.

And that turned out so well, didn't it, Pansy?

Scowling, she stuffed the paper deep into her robe pocket. All those wasted hours spent crying in the girl's bathroom, all because Draco wouldn't have her. And yet, she'd never even thought about the girls she might have made cry with her sharp words and quick tongue. How selfish she'd been. How wrapped up in her own worthless existence.

Well, fuck that. She was her own person now, and nothing was going to stop her.

This potions assignment was only the start. 

---

Hermione Granger regretted many things, but nothing quite so much as inviting Pansy Parkinson, the queen of Slytherin, to study with her in the library. What had she been thinking? She was going to look like a fool, when, inevitably, Pansy didn't show up, and she would have to think of some excuse as to why she was waiting, doing nothing, staring at a bookshelf, for someone to come -

Oh.

There she was, gliding into the library as if she owned it, her round face imperious and aloof, but also...striking. Pansy wasn't pretty, or even beautiful, but she was striking, and the way the sunlight pouring in through the windows caught her face and lifted it snatched Hermione's breath away. She resembled an avenging queen, angry and beautiful and deadly all at once.

Then the moment passed, and she was just a girl again, but Hermione couldn't un-see that look on her face, and her pale cheeks still seemed to be painted with sunshine.

"Afternoon," Pansy said, dropping onto the chair opposite Hermione. Her stare was unflinching, unabashed, and Hermione had to look away.

"Hi," she said, stupidly.

"No books?" Pansy said, looking at the empty table. "Isn't Hermione Granger famed for carrying at least fifteen books around with her?"

Hermione flushed angrily. "Of course I have books," she snapped, feeling almost as though she had something to prove. "I don't need to get them out at every opportunity. They're in my bag."

Pansy laughed. "I'm only teasing, Granger."

"Well, I think I've had enough of your teasing."

There was an uncomfortable silence, in which Pansy finally looked away. "I-"

Hermione slammed a potions book down on the table, causing at least a third of the people in the library to jump, and the librarian to glare angrily at the two of them.

"This is a book of potions," she hissed. "I've been looking through to see what kind of things we can make. There are sleeping draughts, and many different potions for different types of dreams. I think we could.-"

"I did some research as well," Pansy interrupted. "Essentially, for this project, its also about the presentation and explanation of our theme. Our theme is about exploring the difference between good dreams and bad dreams, right?" Hermione nodded. "So if we have the sleeping draughtt as extra, it sort of ties the two together, and initiates the process, even though it's not that hard to make. And then we make some potions for good dreams, and some potions for bad. What do you think?"

Hermione was actually quite impressed, but she was never going to admit it. "Yes...but also, we have to make the potions in class-time. So we need to think realistically about time constraints -"

"Already sorted," Pansy replied, a little smugly. "We make two for nightmares - I can make those - they're hard but...well, and then you make two for good dreams, then in the last few minutes, we brew up a quick sleeping draught. Together." She paused, and then added. "And you do all the writing for it, because I'm crap at it. I will draw the diagrams, and make it look nice."

A little shaken, Hermione could only nod. She had not expected any of this, and nor had she expected, and here she felt ashamed, Pansy to really be good at anything.

"So-"

"You're good at potions," Hermione blurted.

Pansy raised an eyebrow. "You sound surprised, Granger."

Hermione could feel her cheeks reddening. "It's just, you're good at it, so why do you not care?"

"Just because I'm good at something doesn't mean I have to care about it."

"But you should - if you can do well, then you should try -"

"Are you saying that all the people who can't do well should just give up, then? Because they aren't as clever as you?" Pansy stood, scraping her chair back along the wooden floor.

"No, I didn't mean-"

"You didn't mean to?" Pansy laughed harshly. "You didn't mean to."

"Pansy, please, just sit down before we get into trouble-"

"Look, Granger, I didn't want to come back here. Hell, do I look like the kind of person who would willingly repeat a year at school? You made the choice to study. You could have just taken those grades offered by the ministry. I didn't have a choice! So don't you dare berate me for not trying, when I'm only here because of other people. They want good grades? Well, they won't fucking get them."

"Miss Granger, Miss Parkinson, could you please get out?" Madam Pince stormed towards them, her long skirts flapping like an angry bat. "I won't have this kind of behaviour in my library, girls!" Scrutinising them, she added, snippily, "I expect better, Miss Granger." Ducking her head in apology, Hermione scuttled away. Angry tears stung her eyes, which in turn only maddened her further. She couldn't cry. Why was she crying? Why had Pansy taken her words so much to heart?

Outside the library, the two girls stared at each other.

"Do it yourself," Pansy snapped.

"What?"

"Do the potions assignment yourself, Granger. I don't care, do I? I don't want the grades." She snorted. "What was I thinking?"

And then she left.