mirror // pansy parkinson

fourteen | part two

Was the ceiling always this dull?

Was the walls always this shade?

Was the floor always this weak?

I suddenly felt so small.

And everything around me felt so big.

Dear Pansy,

Get the hell out of there.

This is not Daphne or Lily or Zabini writing to you. It's Hermione. So I'm going to write this without any pity.

I know we never get along that well. I know you have hatred for me but the feeling is perfectly mutual.

You're going to die Pansy. You're going to die slow and ugly. And I am aware you know that. You don't mind dying, do you, Pansy? Because you think you deserved it.

I'm not going to deny or anything even though you don't deserve death but it'll come sooner or later. Your illness a lost cause.

Nevertheless, I'm sure you do not want to be murdered.

If you know anyone named Greta, get out. I'm begging you to get out because she's going to end you. Murder you.

She's not your friend. Neither does anyone in the institute. Anyone. Do not trust any of them.

I have a question for you, though, why are you still staying even though you know you're dying? Why don't you get out? Do you not want to see your friends before your death comes?

Is there someone special there? Or do you just feel like you don't deserve to see any of us?

You are not not a villain, Pansy. You are not. You are a lonely little girl who's blindly in love with a lost cause.

You are a good person, Pansy.

I don't know how you're supposed to escape but if you don't want your last words to beg for help, you have to.

Roxy says hi.

Hermione Jean Granger.

'I have to get out,' I muttered to myself.

Or do I?

Or do you, Pansy? Don't you want death? There goes my devil side again. I wished it to go away.

Don't you think you deserve it?

I screamed and punched the wall in agony.

'SHUT UP!'

'You don't make yourself shut up, Pansy. '

The masculine voice certainly wasn't my devil. I looked up and saw Carter at the doorway, looking as intimidating as possible.

'Is anything wrong?' he asked, curiosity painted in his face. 'Why do you suddenly shut yourself in here?'

'How did you get in here?' I answered him with a question of my own. 'I locked the door.'

'I am a wizard, Parkinson,' he snickered, waving his crooked wand around. 'And you had shut yourself here for quite some time. It's nearly evening.'

Evening? I mentally broke down until evening? I really need to get hold of myself.

'Well I received–' I started to say but stopped myself mid-sentence. My mind whirled back to what Hermione had written.

Do not trust any of them.

But surely...I can trust Carter. Surely enough! He and I went through a lot together, he was my only companion and what kept me sane!

He was also Greta's son.

'Say, Carter,' I said, controlling my voice from breaking. 'Would you do anything your mother told you to?'

He blinked. 'Well, yes. I would never want to be a disobedient son.'

He cocked his head. 'Why do you ask?'

'My friend's mother passed away,' I lied smoothly. 'Her mother was very nice to me.'

'Send your friend my condolences.'

'I will.'

'Is that why you look so visibly shaken?' Carter asked.

'I guess so,' I replied, drawing a shaky breath. 'Well, I-I know the feeling of losing a mother. I was very close with her when she was still, you know, alive.'

Of course, that was another lie. I never saw my mother. She died of childbirth. She died because she had me. Which explained my abusive father.

Oh god. Why did I ever reminded myself of that damned man?

'I'm sorry,' Carter softly said.

I smiled wanly in return.

I definitely couldn't trust Carter. Definitely. He's the type of person who wouldn't disobey his mother.

He was definitely in league with his mother to kill me.

And to think I was too stupid to even believe that Carter cared for me.

I looked at Carter in rage.

'It's nearly dinner,' Carter sighed, swiftly changing topics. 'Let me prep you your meal–'

'No need.'

He scowled, stuffing his hands in his pocket. 'You need to eat, Pansy.'

'I know.' I stood up, wiping away lingering tears in my eyes. 'I'm sick of eating alone in my room.'

Carter arched a brow.

I smiled. It was the fakest smile I ever attempted. It was a smile that hurts me.

'I think I'll be eating in the dining hall with your family, Carter,' I said in a cheery tone. 'And I don't think I need to change.'

I looked down at my white dress and brushed off dust.

Carter just grinned. 'Alright then.'

He walked out with a little salute. I walked after him, with Hermione's letter curled up in my fist. 

I walked down the corridor, looking at the tall, grand mirror to take one last look of myself.

I looked at my bony figure, my pale lips, my bloodshot eyes, my marked legs, I pondered at them all.

I looked at my weird body, the dress I had put on–

And blanched.

I stumbled backwards.

'Pansy?' called out Carter from afar. 'You coming?'

My dress. It was white.

Pristine white.

Wasn't it black?