I hope our story has a happier ending

not who I once was

A knock sounds on the dormitory door, and Hermione makes a face, confused; the boys couldn't get up the staircase, and Ginny's never been one to bother knocking.

The wood swings open to reveal Pansy, wringing her hands in an oversized sweatshirt, hair in a sloppy ponytail. "Hey."

Hermione frowns at the way her friend's shoulders curl inward. "What's wrong?"

"I've just—been having a hard time sleeping." Pansy makes her way to sit on the bed beside Hermione as the Gryffindor in question brews in a cauldron on her nightstand. "Nightmares and paranoia and the usual. But they've been really bad, so I was wondering if—maybe I could stay with you tonight?"

"Of course!" Hermione moves to hug her friend's shoulders, no questions asked. "Anything you need. I'm always glad for the company, in here."

"I don't want to—if you have plans with Draco..."

"I don't." Hermione looks her in the eye as she assures her. "And even if I did, your well-being is more important, to both him and I. He can cuddle with Blaise if he's that desperate for someone."

Pansy laughs half-heartedly, leaning her head on Hermione's shoulder. "Love you."

"I love you too. You own prime real estate in my heart."

They're quiet, for a moment; Pansy sighs, peering over the edge of the cauldron. "What are you working on—contraceptive potion?"

"Yep, I'm almost out of my current batch. I do a three month supply at a time—it's how I used to have enough through summers. Even now, although at this point it's habit and not necessity." Hermione's eyes are far away. "It's so terrible it's almost comical, that this is the one I've brewed the most over the years. I could make it in my sleep."

Pansy hums with understanding, squeezing her friend's hand tightly. "That's why you got so good at potions so fast, first year. Why you cared about it so much."

A nod from Hermione. "Why I want to go into healing now." She laughs, and it's—it should be dark, or sad, but she doesn't have it in her to be sad anymore—all she can do is joke about it, or else it's all too heavy. It's easier to just—laugh. "I don't have a single memory or facet of my personality that's gone unaffected by it all."

She snorts, turning to Pansy with a smile. "God, we're so morbid and traumatically fucked up all the time. Tell me something good. How are you and Neville?"

Pansy's cheeks flush pink, and she can't help but smile at the thought. "Good. He's—perfect." She fidgets, repositioning her legs. "So sweet it feels impossible, sometimes. And—so incredibly understanding of all my eccentricities and needs and willing to wait as long as I want for anything and everything and—I know people always say that anyone decent will be, but it doesn't feel that way in practice, you know?"

With an emphatic nod, Hermione moves to put a stasis charm on her cauldron. "It seems like too much to ask of someone, even though logically you know that's not true."

"Exactly." Pansy sighs with a smile, toying with the bracelet on her wrist Neville had gotten her from a small business in Hogsmeade a week prior. It's already growing to be a comforting habit. "He is the sweetest person I've ever met; and he's not afraid to call me out, when I'm projecting or lashing out as a coping mechanism. He doesn't know details, or anything—he can just tell. Figures out my mind before I know it myself."

"Is he..." she hesitates before asking, not sure if it's a sensitive subject for them or not.

"My soulmate?" Pansy questions. "Not a clue. My parents made me write to mine the first day I had anything from him on my skin, tell him to leave me alone and never contact me again. They've always planned on arranging me with Draco or Crabbe, or something, for the alliance, like it's the fucking fifteenth century." She rolls her eyes, expression acidic. "So anyway, I don't know. And I haven't asked Neville about his, either—too nervous he'll leave me for them, I guess. But regardless, even if it's not endgame—he makes me happy." Pansy smiles bashfully. "Really, really happy."