𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄

III

- PANSY PARKINSON -

I didn't sleep.
I couldn't sleep.
My dormmates started waking up at 6.
So i 'woke' up too, pushing back the curtains surrounding my bed and grabbing my wand, ready cast various glamour spells. Daily rituals.

Glamours are thrown around the room, with Daphne and Millicent also casting. I never used to glamour, not before this summer. Not when it wasn't necessary. Not before i had something to hide.

"What class is first?" Millicent inquires from her dressing table. "Potions, Milli"
I reply, looking over my shoulder at her. "I'm going to go shower" i announce, to no one.

I peel off my nightgown,
Turn on the faucet,
Step under the warm water,
Absorbing the quiet calm it radiates,

1

2

3

4

Breathe in

1

2

3

4

Breathe out

1

2

3

4

"HURRY UP PANSY!"
I nearly slip, jumping at the sudden disturbance. Wiping the tears, i yell "coming!" i turn the shower off, grabbing my towel and wrap it around me. I take a deep breath, and realign my face. Masking the pain. Masking everything.

We walk down for breakfast together. The three of us, Slytherin queens. Each with our share of skeletons, each with matching smirks as we walk shoulder to shoulder down through the common room.
"Mornin' ladies" a friendly voice calls out to us from the commons.
"Good morning, Blaise" we echo back. In unison, what did the romans say, strength in numbers?

Less to hide when you share everything from bras to well, tattoos.

We all have our share of trauma, our childhoods never being ideal. But we weren't raised to deal with emotions, good or bad.

But we know we have to be respected. By all who cross our path, who would want a daughter with a tarnished reputation? Not our parents, they make that abundantly clear.

We sit in the great hall, me with my porridge, Daphne with her fruit, Millicent with her pastries. It was the same nearly every day. Nauseatingly perfect. From a distance, from an outside perspective, we probably look pleased to lead identical lives. Or pleased when we sneer and push away first years or hex someone who walked to close.

But no, no, no, NO.

It angers me. The small things. I'm not arrogant. Im not mean. Not really.

But i am self-conscious, i am tired and i am Human. No matter how much they call me a monster.

I wish, i wish i could be a better person, i wish i could let the anger out, let it go, but i'm too deep now. The rumours already spread, the hexes already sent.

The porridge burns, too hot, down my throat. A sweet ignition, brown sugar, plum pieces and walnuts. An escape in a barred up world.