Harry Potter One Shots

Pansmione: Ninetieth Impressions

Pansy's POV

Details: Eighth year at Hogwarts au.

*****

As I walk down the dimly-lit corridor towards the Slytherin common room, the sound of muffled crying rudely interrupts the quiet. I'm tempted to just keep moving and ignore whoever it is, but my love for drama gets the best of me. I turn decidedly right at the next turn and follow the noise to that annoying ghost girl's bathroom. She does seem like the kind of creature who would ruin someone's life...

I walk up to the bathroom door and knock loudly, shutting whoever it is up instantly. I listen intently, hearing the random sounds of someone rushing around. A small smirk settles on my lips and I push the door open to find out who's the loser this time. I'll admit... I wasn't prepared for the sight that greeted me.

"Granger? What the hell are you doing down here?!" My mouth almost falls open at the sight of the Gryffindor girl sitting on the floor. Her brown hair is in a messy ponytail, wisps of hair hanging over her face, which is red from crying. Those stupid Gryffindor robes hang off her shoulders limply, red tie rumpled to the side. I've never seen the muggle-born this... disorganized.

"Parkinson," Granger greets me cooly, quickly wiping a tear of her cheek. Her lip quivers notably but I'm almost impressed by how quickly she's composed herself, even if it was just to hate me.

"That's my name," I reply dryly, crossing my arms as I lean against the bathroom wall. It feels slimy against my robe and I jerk away in disgust.

"What are you doing here?" Granger shoots back at me, standing up from the floor stiffly.

"I followed the pitiful sounds of crying," I sneer but she just rolls her brown eyes at me.

"Congratulations. You found your person. You can go now," the other girl states rudely, gesturing to the door with one hand as she straightens her outfit with the other.

"But I'm curious. What caused such a perfect role-model like you to break down in a moldy old bathroom?" I wrinkle my nose, daring to look around the damp place surrounding us.

"I'd consider that a compliment if it wasn't coming from you," she responds, quick wit not lost. Sometimes I manage to forget she actually punched Draco. He hates the crook in his nose left by that more than anything, so, obviously, I remind him about it every chance I get.

"It's coming from me," I remind her.

"In that case be on my way," Granger nods sarcastically and moves to leave, but I side-step to block her exit.

"Not until you tell me what happened," my eyes narrow and her's do the same in response. I'm too used to others' dislike to care much about it.

"I don't have to tell you anything," she says darkly, blowing a strand of hair out of her face with a cutesy-girl huff.

"Mmhm... but you do want to leave this bathroom without a scene right?" I taunt, fiddling with my black wand casually. I know she's much better at complicated spellwork than I am, but I do have a few dirty tricks up my sleeves. What? I'm a Slytherin for a reason.

Granger sighs, smoothing her hair down in preparation. "Ronald broke up with me," she states simply. I actually drop my wand in surprise, having to ungracefully fumble to catch it.

"Ah," I manage to stare awkwardly, composure lost as I tuck my wand into my pocket. Granger snorts and my face goes red in embarrassment.

"Boys are prats," the Gryffindor shrugs and wipes her cheek again, smearing the already water-streaked mascara running down her cheek.

"For once I actually agree with you," I roll my eyes and pull out the cloth I keep in the my pocket for makeup emergencies. You never know what could happen.

"Why are you...?" Granger starts, tentatively taking the cloth as if it's poisoned. If I was thinking, it probably would be, but I wasn't.

"You look awful and I don't want to be seen with that so just wipe your face off. Surely there's a non-grimy mirror in here," I huff, tucking a strand of my styled raven hair behind my ear. All of this pity is going to give my worry lines if I'm not careful. My mother would straight up have a fit if that happened.

"Fine," Granger wipes her face roughly, smearing the makeup even more. I wince and look away, this kind of fashion insult too much for my poor eyes to take. "Done," she tells me after an agonizing minute. I turn back to see her eyes rimmed with red, but at least not smudged with eyeliner. I nod curtly in approval.

"Better," I don't bother to sneer this time.

"Wow, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," she says dryly, crossing her arms.

"Yeah right," I retort. Surely in all seven years I've known her, I've said something 'nice'? She is a talented witch as much as I hate to admit it. And she's not totally hopeless in the looks department...

"Mud-blood, know-it-all, b*tch, prat-" she starts listing off and I wince before I can stop myself. Worry lines! I chide myself mentally on habit.

"Okay, okay," I hold up a manicured hand to stop her there. "Fine. Maybe I'm not nice."

"You think?" Granger asks, raising an eyebrow in the perfect way only she can.

"Shut up," I snap. She takes a step back and I take a breath, knowing I shouldn't be telling her this. "I... apologize... for my rudeness. Draco and I..."

"Oh," her annoyingly observant eyes go wide. "I'm not sure what to say for once," Granger admits.

"We never liked each other that way," I shrug casually, examining my currently-silver nails. There's a tiny chip in the corner of one which is slightly aggravating. One tiny flaw in complete perfection.

"Then why...?" She starts but doesn't finish her prodding question. I can't tell if she caught herself from asking or if she wants me to answer whatever question I choose to. I look at the Gryffindor for a second, internally debating with myself. I just saw her after a break-up, so I can always black-mail the muggleborn if she dares tell anyone else what I'm about to say.

"If you speak of this, I'll make your life living hell," I threaten and she scoffs.

"Noted," Granger says and I sigh sharply.

"I'm not into guys and let's be honest here, Drake's gay as fuck," I tell her sarcastically and watch as her jaw drops to the floor.

"Oh," she starts laughing in short bursts, clutching her side. I can't tell if she's dying or not, so I just stand in silence.

"Did someone poison you...?" I ask her, eyes narrowing as I watch her gasp for air.

"N-nope. It just makes sense. He's always like 'Pottah' this. 'Pottah' that," she mimics and even I have to grin.

"Oh you think YOU hear the worst of it?" I snort, a very un-ladylike sound that Hermione doesn't notice. "I have to share a common room with that obsessed idiot!"

"I don't know who was worse," she admits, standing up straighter. "Harry had it bad for a while too... he practically stalked Malfoy on that map of his."

We grin at each other for a second before I remember who she is. Who I am supposed to be.

"If you tell anyone," I warn but she cuts me off.

"I won't. I'm bisexual myself," she tells me and I blink in shock. "The community stands together," her annoyingly pretty smile comes back and I adjust my robes, finding myself far too flustered for my liking.

"You should go. Curfew and all," I wave my hand dismissively, moving away from the exit so she can pass.

"Night, Pansy," Hermione walks by without another word and I follow her curly brown hair with my gaze. The bathroom door is long closed behind the Gryffindor before I respond quietly.

"See you later, Hermione."