𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 ~ 𝐇.𝐏

Eight ~ terrible memories.

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November 29th, 1998

WHEN HE SUMMONED her, the blood in her veins ran cold. Her heart had dropped into her stomach and the panic she felt flamed her insides. She gave a fleeting look at Daphne. She was spread out on the bed, smirking. "Haven't figured it out yet, have you?"

Pansy didn't say anything back, cast her eyes downwards.

"I thought so." She chuckled. "Your abilities aren't endless after all."

They weren't. Nor were Daphne's. It was something Voldemort kept reminding her of. Maybe that had led to the fallout of their friendship. But Pansy was sure that numerous other factors had played their part in it. She just liked blaming it on him. She blamed everything on him; the dangerous game to play, since every decision she'd made since the 2nd of May was entirely her doing. Not his. Not Daphne's. Not Draco's.

She bit the inside of her cheek and thought furiously. She desperately wanted to tell Daphne that she wasn't ready yet. That they should figure it out together. That she should help her. Please. That she needed her more than anything else in her life right now. More than Theo. But that wouldn't be a smart move. It'd be impetuous, ridiculous, and she couldn't bring herself to it.

So instead she said, "Jealousy looks hideous on you." 

Daphne rolled her eyes. "A shame, Pans. Your shortcomings look lovely on you."

Pansy got up and slammed the door shut in her gloating face.

***

A flash of Dumbledore's body falling through the cracks of the Astronomy Tower. She comes down with him. There's black smoke all around. She hears voices. It is Harry. What he says sounds distorted and muffled. She can't see anything. The tang of Dark Magic overwhelms her senses. There's a flash of green. Voldemort hangs over her. He is smiling. All turns black once more.

Dread coiled in her stomach as she took her hand off the split wand. She carefully looked up, took in her surroundings. He was sitting at the far end of the table, his thin fingers and grubby nails drawing patterns on the table making the wood screech. The snake hung around his shoulders, hissing softly. Voldemort's red eyes gleamed viciously.

"And?" He asked, voice bleeding with malice. She inhaled steadily, calming her nerves. She figured that she couldn't tell him anything. She hadn't seen anything, after all. All was black, the only thing recognizable that same tang of Dark Magic. She wasn't sure if it had been the Divination or the throne room because wherever he was, its tang followed him. Cold and terrible.

"I don't see anything peculiar," She explained. "It has a mind of its own, like any other wand."

"Then look into it." He hissed, his impatience becoming brutally evident.

Her gaze lingered on the black glove her hand was sheathed in. If she could just—

"No." He barked, getting up from his seat at the far end of the table. "You do not take off the gloves." A shiver spider-crawled down her spine as she realized he had used Legilimency on her. The only thought filling her mind: why? why? why? 

He slithered closer to her. "If you cannot see without these gloves, you are as useless as a Mudblood."

She swallowed thickly. "I shall try again, My Lord."

"You know what happens to Mudbloods here in Hogwarts. You do not want to end up the same way."

He was on edge. She didn't understand why. He must have been hiding something from her.