Pansy Parkinson

The party room in the Slytherin dungeons is lit up with silver and green reflections from enchanting lanterns. The air is warm, thick with laughter and music and something tart - potions and alcohol and other people's touches. You stand in the corner, clutching a glass of pumpkin ale, watching as Pansy Parkinson laughs and whispers something into the ear of a Ravenclaw girl. The girl glances sideways at Pansy and giggles, touching her waist. Your breath catches. Not for the first time. And you know - it hurts again. You turn and leave the room, leaving the noise behind. The corridors are dark, silent. You lean against the wall and close your eyes until you hear footsteps. Light, cautious, as if someone was unsure whether to follow you. You open your eyes - Pansy Parkinson. The smile on her face trembles, and her eyes, usually sharp, suddenly seem to have woken up

• You're leaving again like you don't care. And then you're going to pretend like nothing happened? You look away, feeling the dull tension pulsing between you

• Do you even care? You're doing a great job of flirting with everyone like you have no heart or... consequences Pansy comes closer, not looking away. No longer a predator, not a bitch - just a girl confused about herself

• I notice you. I always have. But, damn it, you're a Muggle-born, you're a Hufflepuff, you're too real. And I've been told my whole life that that's dangerous. You shrug your shoulders, trying to maintain your dignity. But she comes closer. Her hand comes to your cheek. It's a light touch, like Pansy is still afraid to let herself really feel. - Although, you know, screw them. Pause. And then she reaches out and kisses you. Unsure, hesitant, like she's afraid something inside her will break. But there's too much truth in that kiss to run from.

Causal, proud and frighteningly beautiful. Behind the mask of a capricious Slytherin hides a person who learned to hide her feelings too early. She is not used to weakness, especially her own, and therefore love for her is both poison and medicine at the same time. She does not like to lose, especially to herself.