Chapter 6
Her breath was shallow, as if she had been running. Her skin was damp, sticky with sweat despite the fan humming softly from the corner of the room, the pale morning light filtering through the half-closed curtains. The remnants of a dream clung to her like fog. What had it been? It was already slipping away, as dreams always did, leaving only scattered impressions behind.
She couldn’t remember all of it, just flashes, just feelings. A tingling on her lips that never quite happened. The sound of waves. A pair of green eyes. Not just any green. That particular shade, dark and deep, like the depths of a forest. A flash of them, looking at her, through her. Sparkling with something she didn’t want to name.
She lay there for a moment longer, fingers curled into the sheets, trying to shake the strange, lingering sensation.This was getting ridiculous. It had been days since the picnic, days since she’d seen him, and yet….Her stomach twisted.
She exhaled sharply, pushing the thoughts away as she sat up, it was too early for this. It was just a dream that didn't make sense, but it unsettled her.
The scent of brewing coffee and something sweet filled the air, grounding her in the present. Juliette was already at the small dining table, her blonde hair in a messy bun, fingers idly flipping through a book, one hand wrapped around a steaming mug.
- Bonjour, ma chérie- she said smiling when Pansy walked in the kitchen.
Pansy didn't answer, heading straight for the sink to pour herself some water.
Juliette arched a brow - You look… troubled, were you overthinking again?-
Pansy scoffed taking a long sip - I don’t overthink.-
Juliette gave her a knowing look - You've been doing it since we shared that picnic with certain british, mysterious boy-
Pansy rolled her eyes and took a seat - He's not mysterious.-
- Oh, please- Juliette went on, picking at her croissant with deliberate slowness. - He’s the definition of mysterious. That tortured look? Those scars? I mean, come on, he is like the hero of a novel -
Pansy stilled, just slightly. But of course Juliette caught it.
Juliette studied her, curiosity shining in her gaze. - You know, you never talk about your past-
Pansy swallowed. The words felt like stones in her throat - Because there's nothing worth mentioning -
The blonde's expression softened - That's a lie, the past is what makes you the amazing person you are today - she said, giving her a warm smile - And besides, by the way Harry looks at you, he seems to be worthy of something… Feels like there's history between you two, something unfinished.
Pansy blinked, caught off guard by the certainty in her voice - You're imagining things.-
Juliette propped her chin on her hand. - Am I?-
Pansy opened her mouth to argue, but the words caught in her throat. Because, yes, there was history. But not the kind of romantic story Juliette imagined.
The words were right there, just at the tip of her tongue… She had been cruel to him for years. She was one of those people who laughed at him when he was nothing but an innocent boy with messy hair and second-hand clothes and a scar that carried more weight than any of them could comprehend.
She wanted to tell Juliette everything. To confess, to let someone, anyone, see the raw shame she had buried so deep inside her that sometimes, she could almost pretend it wasn’t there.
But instead, she just took another sip of water and said - There’s no history-
Juliette sighed, unconvinced - Really? You never knew him at school?-
Pansy hesitated.
Draco’s voice echoed in her mind. His words had shaped her perception of Harry, how she had been too blinded to question it, to think for herself.
She had believed it. Of course she had. She had parroted every insult, followed every sneer, because it was what was expected of her. Because back then, there had been no room for doubt. No room for sympathy.
Pansy’s grip on the glass tightened.
Juliette leaned in, her voice soft, teasing - Ah, there it is-
- There is what?- Pansy shot back, sharper than she intended.
Juliette’s lips curled - The truth trying to claw its way out.- She tapped a finger against the table, her gaze immovable - So? What happened?-
Pansy let out a slow breath, tracing the rim of her glass absently - It’s… complicated-
Juliette gave a soft hum. - Complicated how?-
Pansy didn’t respond.
Juliette didn’t push. Instead, she gave her an almost disappointed look. - You know… sometimes I just wonder who you really were before you came here, who you really are-
Pansy looked away. And somewhere, beneath all of her walls and masks, she wondered too.
The studio was dimly lit, the late afternoon light filtering through the high windows, casting long shadows over the wooden floor. Pansy stood in the center, barefoot, her ribs rising and falling with each measured breath. Her body was tense, coiled like a string drawn too tight. The speakers crackled softly before the music began, slow at first, almost delicate.
It pulsed through her, but she wasn’t there.
Her body moved out of habit, muscle memory guiding her steps. Each motion was precise, but there was an edge to it, a kind of raw urgency. Her limbs extended too far, her turns too sharp, her body almost chasing the beat rather than following it.
But she didn’t care. She wasn’t thinking about technique. She wasn’t thinking about balance. Her thoughts had been a tangled mess since that morning, since that damn dream, since Juliette’s insistent questions about the past. Who she used to be.
She danced like she was trying to outrun her own shadows. Like she was still that little girl, desperate to belong, to survive in a world that had decided who she was supposed to be since the moment she was born.
She spun, faster and faster, pushing against the growing frustration clawing inside her. She’d spent years perfecting the illusion of control, but right now, in that moment, she didn’t want control. She wanted to move until she felt something, anything other than the weight pressing on her chest.
She hurled herself into the air, her body twisting effortlessly into an aerial flip. For a heartbeat, she hovered, suspended weightless in perfect control before she landed with precise, feline grace on her feet.
In the mirror, her reflection stared back as she came to a stop, gasping for air, her pulse thrumming in her ears. She felt the sweat at the nape of her neck, the trembling in her limbs, the satisfying kind, the kind that only came after pushing herself too hard, too far. A shadow of something passed through her features. Not quite sadness. Not quite exhaustion. Just a glimpse of quiet, fragile honesty.
And then, applause.
Pansy’s head snapped up, her breath still uneven. Juliette stood at the doorway, grinning like she’d just won something. But it wasn’t Juliette who made Pansy freeze. It was the figure just behind her.
Harry was standing there, completely out of place against the sleek walls and mirrored reflections. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, posture stiff, but that wasn’t what caught her off guard.
It was the way he looked at her. Like she had just done something to him. Like the air had been knocked from his lungs, and he was still trying to steady himself.
His eyes, deep, held something unreadable, something glittering just beneath the surface, as if he had seen more than just the dance. As if, for a moment, he had been pulled into it too.
The silence stretched with unspoken tension. Pansy swore she saw his throat bob, like he had to clear it, force the words past whatever had tightened in his chest.
Juliette turned toward him, still smiling, oblivious to the way Pansy felt like she’d just had the wind knocked out of her.
- Have you ever seen Pansy dance before?- she asked, playfully nudging his arm - She’s mesmerizing, isn’t she?-
Harry didn’t answer right away. He was still looking at Pansy.
She felt exposed under his stare. He wasn’t just watching her. He was seeing her. Like he had seen something he shouldn't. Like he had caught glimpses of her in the dance, the things she hadn’t meant to confess.
And then, finally he spoke.
- Yeah- he murmured, still sounding distant - She is.-
Pansy's breath hitched, gripping the hem of her leotard to stop her fingers from shaking.
Because for the first time, she wondered if Harry Potter was starting to see beyond her carefully constructed walls.
When Juliette dragged him into the studio, laughing and chattering in rapid French, he told himself he’d make an excuse, slip away before anyone noticed. Harry hadn’t meant to stay. Not until he saw her.
He stood motionless by the doorway, his eyes glued to Pansy as she moved across the studio floor. He had seen her dance before, and just like that night at the restaurant, it had left him unsettled, like something inside him was shifting, rearranging itself in ways he couldn’t quite grasp.
Pansy had moved like she was fighting to break free of her own skin. Like something inside her was clawing to get out, and her body, was the only thing standing in its way. She looked like a porcelain doll trying to hold a hurricane inside.
She was like him, he recognized it instantly.
That need to run from something that lived inside him. That ache to forget himself, even for a second. The sheer exhaustion of holding himself together when everything inside was splintering apart.
And she had shown it. All of it. Unfiltered. Unapologetic. But unlike him, she didn’t try to bury it. She had let it spill out, raw and untamed, onto the dance floor. And somehow, that made it worse.
Harry swallowed, his throat dry, his hands curling into fists. He didn’t like this. Didn’t like that he saw himself in her. Didn’t like that she, once again, had unraveled something in him when he had spent so long feeling numb.
Harry exhaled, trying to shake the feeling curling in his gut. It was stupid, really, how much this was getting to him. But watching her, watching her dance like that, it was like looking at her silent plea for freedom, her desperate, beautiful chaos.
The silence stretched on for a moment. Juliette’s voice finally broke through the fog of Harry’s thoughts, but he barely heard her.
- Give me five minutes, I'll change and then we can rehearse together - Her voice was light, teasing as she left them alone.
Their eyes met in the mirror. For a split second, she held his gaze before blinking, too quickly, as if pulling herself back. Then her mouth curled into something sharp edged and dismissive…
- Merlin, Potter, you really need to work on that stalking problem of yours - Pansy said, voice steady despite the uneven rise and fall of her chest as she pretended to be stretching.
Harry should have let it roll off him. Should have thrown back something equally sharp. She was almost trembling, though whether it was from exertion or something unspoken, he couldn't tell. There was a flicker in her eyes, a vulnerability that made his heart stutter. It wasn’t just the dance that had left her undone; it was the moment itself, the rawness, the truth of it.
- Your friend didn't leave me much of an option actually - he said awkwardly ruffling his own hair.
She hummed, unconvinced - Didn’t take you for a ballet enthusiast, I mean, you were bloody horrific at the yule ball.
He recognized what she was doing, pushing the attention away from herself, steering them into familiar territory. Harry almost let her have it. Almost let her keep the distance safe between them.
But he couldn’t. Not after watching her like that.
- Yeah- he admitted, his voice rougher than he intended - I was bloody awful-
Pansy blinked, just for a second, as if she hadn’t expected him to agree. But before she could grab hold of the conversation again, before she could bury the moment under the rug, he took a step forward.
- But even I can tell… - he said, quieter now - that you don’t dance like that unless you’re running from something.-
The air changed. Tension snapped between them like a live wire, invisible but thrum. And then, so casually it almost fooled him, she smirked, but it was off. A fraction too slow. A fraction too forced - Aren't you doing the same Potter?-
Harry didn’t look away, he let the words settle, sink in.
Then, shoving his hands in his pockets he exhaled - Guess so… Though I think yours comes with a better choreography-
Pansy’s head snapped up, her eyes wide with surprise. She didn’t answer at first. Her lips parted, but nothing came out. The tension between them was palpable, suffocating in its silence. Pansy swallowed, her eyes flicking away quickly, as if she didn’t want to meet his gaze.
- I…thank you- she said, the words were so soft he almost missed them.
And then, there it was the thing that made Harry’s heart skip a beat. It wasn’t the words themselves, but the way she said them. The hesitation, the way her walls were starting to crack, just a little.
For a brief moment, it felt like the world around him had trembled.
Pansy’s thank you still hung between them, fragile and uncertain. Harry nodded, but his mind was still reeling.
He should have left. That would have been the smart thing to do. The easy thing. But instead, he shifted his weight, glancing around the studio before his eyes inevitably found its way back to her. Like a magnet.
- I've been wondering when I was going to see you again- he said, the words out before he could stop them. They felt too close to something real, something vulnerable.
Pansy stilled, her hands pausing mid stretch. Her eyes flicked to his, searching, before she masked whatever she found there with a lazy smirk - What, you missed me, Potter?-
Harry huffed a short laugh, shaking his head - Hardly, I just thought you might be gone-
She frowned, caught off guard - Gone where?-
He shrugged - I don’t know... You don’t seem like the kind to stay in one place for too long-
Pansy tilted her head, studying him. Then softly said - And yet, here I am. Right in front of you- She took a slow step forward, almost thoughtful - Are you trying to tell me something?-
Harry exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck - You always make things this difficult?-
- Only when it's fun- Her eyes sparkling with amusement.
Then, she smirked, teasing but intent.- Are you trying to ask me to meet again, Potter?-
Harry exhaled through his nose - I don't know… Maybe- He shrugged, forcing nonchalance, though his chest felt too tight.
Pansy hummed, letting the silence linger, drawing it out just long enough to make him uncomfortable.
- I know a place- she said, almost lazily, stretching her arms over her head. - Quiet. Not crowded. Good view… - She glanced at him through her lashes. - Unless that’s not what you’re looking for.-
Harry frowned - And what exactly am I looking for? -
Pansy tilted her head, as if studying a puzzle she hadn’t quite solved - I don’t know yet - she admitted. - Guess we’ll find out -
There was something in the way she said it that made his chest tighten. A challenge, but not the kind he was used to.
And for the first time, Harry thought that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t just a game.
Before he could respond, the door swung open.
- Okay, now I'm ready - Juliette’s voice cut through the moment like a knife, bright and oblivious. She strode toward them, unbothered by the tension in the air. - You’re not trying to steal my partner, are you, Harry?-
Pansy rolled her eyes, stepping back with an exaggerated sigh - Please. Potter wouldn’t know what to do with me-
Harry opened his mouth, then thought better of it, feeling the heat creeping up his neck.
Juliette barely noticed. She clapped her hands together, all effortless energy - We were talking about heading out later. You should come, Harry, it will be fun.
He hesitated, ignoring Juliette’s expectant glance. The thought of a crowd, of meaningless chatter, of being surrounded by people he didn’t know, it made his skin itch. But then, Pansy shifted beside him, one brow arched, waiting.
- Actually- she said, voice smooth as silk - Potter and I already have plans-
Harry blinked, startled. He wasn’t sure who was more surprised, him or Juliette.
But then Pansy just smirked, tilting her head toward him expectantly - Don’t we?-
And with absolutely no idea how it had happened, Harry found himself nodding - Yeah, we do-
Juliette’s brows shot up, but she only grinned - Well, well, guess I’ll have to find a new victim for the night.-
She twirled away into the studio, giving the two of them some privacy.
Pansy turned back to Harry, her expression unreadable - You better not be late, Potter -
He smirked, just a little - Can't promise anything -
And as he walked away, he realized something strange. For the first time in what felt like forever, he was looking forward to something.