Chapter 27: Pansy

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This morning is different. This morning Valencia wakes up to the quiet thump of Pansy's heartbeat beneath her ear. She is pleasantly warm from the arms wrapped around her waist, and their legs are tangled together beneath the covers. It's intimate, she thinks, and she wonders when she became so comfortable with things like this.

She has never experienced this level of closeness- she's certainly never shared a bed with someone, not properly any way. Pansy must feel the change in her, the sudden tensing of her muscles, because her hand begins to stroke warm circles across his back and Valencia feels a gentle pressure against the top of her head- it's a kiss, planted gently on her hair, and a little shiver travels down her spine at the thought. She doesn't want to admit that it's pleasure, but she's never been very good at lying to herself.

"Good morning, Valencia."

She moves off Pansy's chest as quickly as she can. She feels her cheeks burning with embarrassment as she carefully disentangles herself from the other girl, blinking away sleep. She's surprised when Pansy takes hold of her hand and strokes her thumb across her knuckles. She's even more surprised when she looks up, straight into Pansy's eyes, and sees that she's hurt. "Good morning. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- well..." She trails off. He can see that all she's doing is making it worse.

She had thought that Pansy was just being kind when she'd wrapped her in her arms last night- she'd been crying like a child anyway, and she caused a scene. She'd made Pansy go out of her way to help- and she'd been on her way to sleep- and that wasn't even the worst of it. She'd taken Pansy's bed when she arrived because she was too weak, too fearful to be asked to sleep elsewhere, and Pansy has probably been afraid of hurting her, or afraid that she would trigger the obscurus to emerge and then that would be the end of her, and Valencia doesn't want that. Pansy's her best friend, the only person she's told about her problem. Yes, that's all her kindness is. Fear. "Are you alright, Valencia?" Pansy. Always concerned, even when she's hurt and probably afraid of Valencia. Everyone is. She's used to it.

Her vision is darkening at the edges, and Pansy looks panicked. She's still holding her shoulders, shaking her back and forth, and now her words are more forceful than before. "Valencia, please, you need to calm down- breathe for me Valencia! You need to listen to me- you're stronger than this, I know you are. I'm begging you- don't do this Valencia, don't let this defeat you!" The shaking is worse now but she can hear Pansy, her voice choking through tears, begging her to breathe, and she knows that she's losing control rapidly- but Pansy is there, her forehead leaning against her own, and one of her hands has moved to cup Valencia's jaw, while the other cradles the back of her head. She's whispering soft words that Valencia can't make out, but something inside her remembers the grief and the pain on Pansy Parkinson's face when she thought she was gone.

And the shaking stops.

Pansy immediately flung her arms over Valencia and cried heavily into her shoulder. Valencia hears the soft endearments and the warm, comforting words streaming from Pansy's lips, and when she feels steady enough, she lifts her hand and brushes Pansy's tears away with the pad of her thumb. The curve of Pansy Parkinson's smile is enough to make her wonder if gluttony is really a sin, because seeing this smile would be worth sinning for.

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