YOU DIDN'T MEAN TO • PANSMIONE

( TWO ! )

REALLY, CRUELTY WAS AN ART. A masterful painting, and false deception shaped with delicate precision. No matter what one felt inside, it could be masked, and shielded with a loop of pain that lashed at anyone who came too near.

Pansy had nearly perfected it.

Stares pinched at her skin as she entered the already full classroom, some hot and angry, others icy and full of judgement. Neither could touch her, and with no indication that she had even noticed, she glanced up at the ornate clock towards the back of the classroom.

"Late again, Miss Parkinson," Slughorn reprimanded, his voice a tone higher, as if he was scolding a child. He really was the most insufferable teacher, and that was saying something (Pansy had had to deal with many insufferable teachers in her years at Hogwarts), and he grated on her nerves more with every lesson.

"Sorry, Professor," she said, although, of course, she didn't sound sorry in the slightest. Pansy Parkinson didn't 'do' apologies, especially not to teachers who would let her get away with it. Turning sharply, she stalked towards the other Slytherin students in the room, who seemed both approving and wary of her, parting to make room for her in their ranks. She adjusted her glasses, and stared expectantly at the blackboard, an attentive student in all but...well, everything.

"We will be working in pairs today," Slughorn announced, moving towards the front of the classroom. "I have planned out a long term project for you all, that I think you will enjoy." He paused for dramatic effect, pulling at his moustache with one round finger. "This work will, however, be assessed, and will count towards your NEWTs. Now, there's no need to panic," he continued as the class began to murmur. "If this work doesn't go according to plan, you still have a chance to get Outstanding in your NEWTs exams, because the examiners will be taking into account all other assessed work and may disregard this if it seems out of place."

Someone across the other side of the room was talking very fast, and when Pansy turned to see who it was, she saw none other than Hermione Granger rapidly whispering to Ginny Weasley, a look of utter petrification on her face. This announcement seemed to have her shaken, but she shut up quickly as the disapproving gaze of the professor swept over her. Pansy barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes.

"I will be putting you into partners myself," Slughorn said, producing a crumpled piece of parchment from somewhere in his enormous waist coat. "As I think it will be a further challenge for my already exceptional students to work with someone that isn't their usual pair." For a class, this was always terrible news; teachers didn't seem to understand that working with someone you don't feel comfortable with is, quite frankly, terrifying. For Pansy, she was indifferent, and almost a little relieved - this time, she wouldn't have to witness other students avoiding her gaze, and pairing up with someone who they felt was definitely their friend.

Slughorn proceed to read out his list (and it seemed he had laboured long and hard over this - people were Slughorn's favourite pastime). Students moved reluctantly towards one another, sending apologetic looks over their shoulders towards their friends.

"Pansy Parkinson, you will be working with Hermione Granger." 

Discomfort was not an emotion that Pansy frequently experienced, but she did so now. Hermione Granger? There was shame behind that name; it brought her memories rising up in her throat like burning acid, memories of brown eyes filled with tears, and hatred wrapped in a glance and thrown like an knife. Perhaps discomfort was an understatement, she mused. Guilt might sum it up better. Guilt and hatred, all mixed as one, which made for a strange concoction, and one which she wasn't willing to let get the better of her.

Suddenly Hermione was beside her. It seemed she had moved across the room unnoticeably - or Pansy just wasn't paying attention (which was unusual - she caught nearly everything on a good day).

Throwing a quick glance in Hermione's direction, she crossed her legs, waiting impatiently for the other girl to make the first move. Her small hand elevated her chin, adding a touch of defiance to her features, which she thought created balance and poise. Cruelty is an art. Hermione's expression darkened to the slightest degree, but she rolled up her sleeves and pulled a neatly preserved copy of their potions text book from her bag.

Slughorn wafted awkwardly around the classroom, handing them a sheet of parchment, on which Pansy assumed were instructions for their project. Hermione stared at it, seemingly dumbstruck, before her eyes began to flick from side to side, devouring the words at a pace Pansy couldn't comprehend. The movement really was quite fascinating.

"It says here that we have to create a series of potions based around a theme," she read, her voice tumbling over the words as a stream trips and falls over rocks. There was definitely an undertone of panic there. "A theme of our choice." She looked up, a though she was clearly trying to hide it, there was judgement in her stare.

"What? I'm not as wildly inappropriate as you might think." Pansy plucked the paper from her and scanned it herself. Her reading was significantly less prolific than Hermione's, and it made her feel out of place. "Why don't we - "

"I was thinking that we could do something night themed," Hermione said quickly. "You know, to banish bad dreams, and stuff like that. Peace, and sleep." She bit her lip.

"No, no," Pansy said, extending her finger. "We do nightmares. Way more aesthetic."

"This is not about the aesthetic, Pansy," Hermione said with exasperation. "This is our NEWTs, our exams. They mean everything -"

"Not to me," Pansy said. There was a pause. Hermione seemed to be struggling to comprehend this. "I want to do something dark. Dark, and artsy."

A sigh.

"I want to take into account what you want, Pansy, I really do, but I just...well, we both know that I....that I will end up doing, you know, the majority of the work, so I -"

"Hey! Do you really think that little of me?"

" - So I would at least like to base the project around something that I will enjoy doing -"

"Well, school work isn't exactly something you're supposed to enjoy - "

"- and so we will be doing what I suggested."

Pansy stared at her incredulously. She would never have thought Hermione Granger would have this much spirit in her.

It made her smile inside.

Just a little bit.

But also, she was damn infuriated.

"That is totally unfair and prejudiced!" she cried, falling in mock faint. "The injustice of it all!" A few of the students turned round to look at them, and Hermione flushed.

"Please stop," she hissed. "We can do your idea too. If you promise to help. In all of it. We can do contrasting. The good and bad of the night. Potions that caused darkness and nightmares, and ones that counter them too. We might get more marks for being able to create opposites and antidotes for every potion we create..." She trailed off. "Artsy enough for you, Parkinson?"

Pansy bared her teeth. "That's artsy enough for me, Granger."