LOVE IS PAINFUL, especially when you're in love with someone you know will never love you back — someone who would never dream of loving you back. Pansy Parkinson thought about this fact woefully as she wandered the castle late in the night. She hadn't been able to sleep, and Millicent's snoring wasn't helping the matter in the least. Eventually, she'd decided to take the risk and make her way out of Slytherin House and enjoy a midnight stroll. She prayed Filch or Snape wouldn't catch her: she always knew those two were the most likely to be making their rounds about the castle at this time.

The clocktower in the courtyard chimed midnight, and the short-haired girl walked daintily so as to make her footsteps go unnoticed if encountering any unwanted company. Then, she heard three whispering voices as she neared the kitchens, but as she peered her head around the corner, she noticed that nobody was there. Odd. A ghost, perhaps? Three of them?

Then, before her very eyes, three students popped into existence: the middle one holding a shimmering cloak in his tanned hands, black hair ruffled more so than usual. The Golden Trio. She let out a surprised gasp, and the three turned their heads at once, though she had been quick to pop back around the corner and out of their line of vision.

"If we're going to do this, Hermione," Ron Weasley claimed. "We need to hurry. This place gives me the creeps at night."

"You're such a baby, Ronald." Hermione's voice chided, and Pansy risked another poke around the corner. The boys were watching as the brown-haired girl stepped towards a painting of a bowl of fruit and began to tickle the pear. Suddenly, a passageway exposed itself into the kitchens, and the three made their way through it. Pansy stared after them in wonderment. What were they doing in the kitchen? How had Potter come into possession of an Invisibility Cloak? Why couldn't she be friends with them?

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The next time Pansy caught sight of the Gryffindor trio, they were making their way into the Great Hall for breakfast and Granger was carrying a small box. She watched as the three sat down at their table and the bushy-haired girl began to pull what appeared to be pins from the box and talked avidly about them, gesturing to them as if they were the most important things in the world.

"Two sickles for one of those?!" Weasley cried out loudly enough for the entire student body to hear him. His cheeks became as red as his hair, and he lowered his head onto the table sheepishly. The Gryffindor girl scolded her friend. Though Pansy couldn't read whatever had been written onto the pins, she knew she'd be willing to pay any price for whatever Hermione Granger had to offer.

She figured that she might just get herself a little collection of pins; she'd certainly gotten enough from Draco's whole 'POTTER STINKS' ordeal earlier in the year. However, she knew she couldn't just go walking over to Gryffindor Table with two sickles in hand: she needed to figure out just what the pins were for, and if they were in any relation to the Golden Trio's midnight trip to the kitchens the night prior. She found herself listening intently for any indignation as to what was going on, but as Gryffindor and Slytherin's tables were on opposing sides of the Great Hall, the noise of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff soon drowned out the noise. Damn Salazar and Godric for their rivalry!

Breakfast ended and the black-haired girl found herself being whisked away by Blaise Zabini, who had a tight hold on her arm and was looking at her knowingly. "You couldn't keep your eyes off of her during the whole meal. It quite looked like you were wanting to eat her."

"Granger's up to something, Blaise." She responded simply. "They all are. She's selling something: a pin of sorts, and I intend on buying one."

"What if they say 'PANSY STINKS' as retaliation for Draco? Or perhaps a reference to Potions class and the whole Ugly Incident?" He asked, an eyebrow raised.

She frowned. "She wouldn't do that, would she?"

"How should I know?" He shrugged. "I have less desire to befriend them than you do. That lot are about as valuable to me as a dung beetle. Though, the Weasley twins on the other hand... perhaps they'd be alright to have around for a few laughs."

"You're impossible, Zabini!" Pansy cried out dramatically, stepping through the door to Charms class with her friend in tow. Draco had already taken a seat beside Theo, and while the places to their left were taken up by Crabbe and Goyle, the two seats to their right were graciously saved.

Draco eyed the pair with a heavy look. He was still skeptical about Pansy and Blaise's relationship, refusing to leave her alone with the dark-skinned boy for more than a few minutes at a time. She was like a sister to him, after all, and he couldn't stand if something were to happen to her. He'd kill Zabini if something did, or anyone else who hurt her for that matter.

"You'd do well in coming to class on time." His posh accent rang out amongst the mostly silent room composed of Slytherins and their Ravenclaw teacher. Pansy grabbed the blond's arm apologetically, sincerity written in her dark eyes, and Malfoy huffed and faced the front of the room once again.

During the lesson that day, they were learning Cistem Aperio, a spell which could blast open containers with a simple swish of the wand. A small container was placed in front of each student, and of course Pansy, Blaise, Theo, and Draco had no problem in casting the spell. Crabbe and Goyle however, they'd managed to turn their containers into thick, medium-sized rocks.

"You two are so stupid!" Malfoy spat, embarrassed to be seated beside two so completely dimwitted students. Truthfully, he only kept them around nowadays because they were strong, and because they were family friends. Otherwise, he would've dropped them long ago.

Pansy blasted open another container, earning an approving nod from Professor Flitwick before the bell signaled the end of class and the students were free to head to their next subject. The black-haired girl laced her arm through Draco's, as now they had Divination and Blaise had a different class with Theo. Crabbe and Goyle followed behind the two at a distance, forever a couple of bodyguards to the two.

They shared the class with Gryffindor, and Pansy grew excited by this fact before remembering that Hermione had opted out of the class the year prior. She remembered easily the day Professor Trelawney criticized the bushy-haired girl's divination talents. She took a seat closer towards the window, noticing Potter had done the same and seemed to be trying to stick his face through the slight crack as a means to breathe in non-toxic air. She didn't blame him: the aromas in this room were enough to intoxicate anyone.

The professor went on with her lessons as per usual, making up a load of rubbish about the positioning of planets and moons and how that corresponded with one's body. Pansy had never believed in this; she simply took the class knowing that, the more gruesome she predicted her life to be – or an impending death – the better grade she would receive. They were doing crystal balls that day, an easier lesson then, and suddenly Trelawney was standing straight in front of her.

The woman's thin fingers lightly touched the crystal on either side, peering into the mist. Truthfully, Pansy had seen nothing, though the look on the professor's face signifies that there had in fact been something there — something that mustn't have been good. "Miss Parkinson," her voice claimed in a mystifying way, "you will stay after class today... We have much to discuss."

The black-haired girl watched in shock. Nothing divine had ever happened to her before: no prophecy, nothing of importance. She noticed the eyes of many students staring at her, and she adverted her own dark ones with embarrassment, mind racing in the highly perfumed tower.

"Probably something to do with Potions Class." She heard Seamus Finnigan mutter to Dean Thomas. "Hermione's probably gonna do something to their Beautification Potion and give her an ass's ears."

"Then she wouldn't be ugly," Dean remarked. "She'd be a head-ass!" The boys broke into a bunch of giggles.

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After Divination, Pansy parted ways with Malfoy and stood back as the rest of the class shuffled through the trap door and down the ladder. Once all of the students were gone, she turned towards the Seer, who was giving her a most sympathetic look. She watched as the eccentric woman headed over to a chest of drawers and pulled out a bit of red yarn, walking it over to the Slytherin with a pair of scissors as well.

"Do you see this, Miss Parkinson?" The woman asked, and Pansy nodded slowly, eyebrows raised curiously as to where the professor was going with this. "This bit of yarn represents your heart, and these pieces of string here: these are your heartstrings."

All moisture left Pansy's mouth suddenly. She felt as though she were going to faint. "And... Why is that important?"

"You're in love," Professor Trelawney said simply. "Though it's an unreciprocated one: one of which you stand no chance in ever developing into something real." She snipped a bit of yarn, and the black-haired girl watched as it fluttered slowly to the ground.

She felt weak. "Y- You don't know that! My family says you're a fraud."

The professor took a seat on her plush chair, still facing Pansy with the most pitiful look. "Are you familiar with the word, 'Mágoa,' dear?"

"N- No, ma'am."

"In Portuguese, the word means 'hurt.' It's a heartbreaking feeling that leaves long-lasting traces, visible in gestures and facial expressions. Do you know what I saw in your crystal ball today, Miss Parkinson?"

The Slytherin was crying now, actually crying. She wanted to run away from the room: never return to this class and never have to listen to this good-for-nothing woman ever again. However, she found herself frozen in place — frozen in her own despair.

"I saw you, Miss Parkinson. I saw you in all of your remaining years at Hogwarts looking after Miss Granger: eyes following her wherever she goes, though never – never developing a relationship with her. This romance is destined for failure, and heartbreak will consume you."

"You're wrong!" Pansy screamed, finding her voice again finally. She grabbed her belongings from her seat and began making her way from the classroom, never looking back on the professor who'd basically told her that everything she did was for nothing: that she was nothing. She knew that her friends had all gone off to lunch, but she wasn't hungry. She headed directly towards the dungeons, barely giving the passageway into Slytherin House a chance to open before rushing inside and to her dormitory.

She cried for hours, refusing to attend the rest of her classes and huddled under her blankets and feeling sorry for herself. Once she felt she could cry no more, a deep-rooted tiredness consumed her, and as she was lulled to sleep with a face of drying salty tears, she thought, you have to be wrong.