The Secret Slytherin Queen

68-After the after party

Pansy's POV

I was on top of Ron. We kissed. He kept bitting my bottom lip. "Calm down." I breathed between kisses. His hands were on my hips. His blue eyes looked up at me. "I really like you Pansy." He smiled. He kissed my neck. That red headed boy was trying so hard to keep me interested. "I know you do, but I don't want to jump into bed with you yet. We should you know... get to know each other..." I trailed off.

I kept thinking about what he has said. That vile blonde. I wasn't a whore... or at least I didn't want to be. I had to change. I could date a nice boy like Weasley. He was the kinder one of his brothers. He wasn't the smartest but he was sweet and maybe that's what I really needed. Not some brute who called me names and wanted me for my body.

He looked up at me and caressed my check. "I-I don't want you to think I'm a whore." A rear welt up in my eye. His brows furrowed and his big eyes gave me an expression of almost pitty.

"Of course Pans. I want to get to know you as well. But right now I want you. Please don't think of him. You aren't like that."  His eyes darkened I could see him get angry at the thought of Draco. I felt like I had something in my throat. Holding back tears, I got off him and ran to the hall. He hurried behind me. "Pansy?" He yelled.

I kept walking. "I- I... I just need some time. I'm drunk- I'll... see you tomorrow." I yelled and ran to the stairs to get away.

As I sprinted down the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts, the sound of his footsteps echoed behind me, growing louder with every passing second. My heart pounded in my chest, and panic surged through me. I couldn't let him catch up. Not now. Not like this.

I turned a sharp corner and bolted toward the girls' bathroom on the second floor—the one most students avoided because of Moaning Myrtle's unpredictable visits. My hands shook as I grasped the cold brass handle and pushed the heavy wooden door open, slipping inside before quickly locking it behind me with trembling fingers. I leaned against the door, my breath shallow, and for a moment, I listened—hoping, praying he hadn't followed me in here.

Silence.

I let out a shaky sigh, sliding down to the stone floor, my back against the door. Tears that I had tried so desperately to hold back finally spilled down my cheeks, warm and unchecked. I buried my face in my hands, letting the sobs come freely. How could everything have gone so wrong?

The dim glow of enchanted torches flickered against the ancient walls, casting long shadows across the tiled floor. The distant drip of water echoed from one of the sinks, but it was drowned out by the sound of my ragged breathing. I felt embarrassed for breaking down like this—especially over him.

But he couldn't see me like this. I couldn't bear it. It would be too humiliating, too vulnerable, and I had already shown enough weakness.

My mind raced with fragments of our last conversation—his words, his tone, the look in his eyes. It was too much to handle. The weight of it crushed me, and I curled into myself, wishing I could disappear like so many ghosts that wandered these halls.

I glanced around the bathroom, half-expecting Myrtle to pop out of one of the stalls, but for once, the place seemed empty. A small mercy. The last thing I needed was a ghost offering commentary on my misery.

In the distance, I thought I heard his footsteps slow. I held my breath, waiting. Would he knock? Call my name? Try to get in? But no—after a tense moment, I heard him walk away. I was alone again, but the sense of relief did little to soothe the ache in my chest.

I wiped my tears with the sleeve of my robe, staring blankly at the cracked tiles in front of me. Somewhere deep inside, I knew I couldn't stay in here forever. Eventually, I would have to face him again. Face everything. But for now, the bathroom was my sanctuary, and I could allow myself just a little longer to fall apart.

Ronald's POV:

I watched her bolt from the common room, her dark hair swaying behind her as she ran. I called after her, "Pansy!" but she didn't stop. She was already disappearing down the corridor. My chest tightened as I scrambled to follow her, my mind racing. What the hell just happened? Everything had been going so well. We were just... together, and now she's running from me.

As I chased her, my head spun with thoughts of what I could've said or done wrong. Pansy always kept this tough front, like she was invincible, but I saw the way she looked when she mentioned him—Draco. Merlin, I hate that git. She's been through hell with him, and here I am, trying to help her move on, but she's still thinking about him.

Her words echoed in my head: "I don't want you to think I'm a whore." My stomach twisted at the memory. I never saw her like that, not for a second. I just wanted to be there for her, to make her feel... safe, wanted for who she is, not what she thinks she's been reduced to because of that prat. But when she got up and left, it was like something snapped.

I could hear my own footsteps reverberating off the stone walls as I followed her down the twisting corridors, my heart pounding in sync with them. "Pansy, wait!" I shouted, but she kept running, her silhouette growing smaller in the distance.

I rounded a corner just in time to see her slip into the girls' bathroom—the one no one ever went to because of Moaning Myrtle. For a second, I hesitated. She needed space, right? But I could tell she was hurting, and I couldn't leave her like this. Not when she thought she had to hide from me.

I slowed down, standing just outside the door. I leaned against the cold stone wall, trying to catch my breath and calm myself before I said something stupid. "Pansy," I said softly, but she didn't answer.

I didn't know what else to do. I pressed my forehead against the door and closed my eyes. This wasn't how tonight was supposed to go. I had tried to tell her how much I liked her, but she kept getting caught up in her own insecurities. She was so worried about what he had made her feel like.

"Pansy, I don't think of you like that," I murmured, even though I knew she couldn't hear me.

The sound of her crying reached me through the door, muffled but enough to break my heart. I wanted to burst in there, tell her she didn't need to feel this way, but something held me back. Maybe it was because I knew, deep down, that she wasn't ready to hear it. Not yet.

So I just stood there, leaning against the door, waiting. I'd wait as long as it took for her to come out. Because whatever she was going through, I wasn't going anywhere.