"I will. For the foreseeable future."

Hermione frowned, watching Pansy blend colors together in her palette. Would she always be forced into other girls' bodies, watching from the sidelines as somebody else? It was unfair to ask her to take Giuliana's place. Unfair to both them.

And as that fire sparked in her, Hermione thought of the red nails and red lips her own body had worn while driven by Pansy. She'd clearly done it as a favor to Draco, just like she was here now. He never should have asked her.

Pansy was shaping her brows when Hermione found her voice again.

"About the night you took my body to Edinburgh," she said. Pansy paused over her left brow. "I was quite shocked, and frankly felt quite violated with that discovery. But I realize that you were just trying to help a friend." She dropped her eyes to her hands, her bare fingernails. "I want you to know that I don't hold it against you."

Pansy was still. Hermione glanced up to see an arched brow directed down at her, and eyes as cold as ice.

"And what exactly am I apologizing for, Granger? For saving your arse? Both of yours?"

Hermione's brow furrowed. "I don't expect an apology. I know that you agreed when Draco asked you to go in my place—"

"You think Draco had the sense to suggest it?" Pansy smiled, low and catlike. "It was my idea, Granger. I was sick of hearing Blaise moan about how Draco was going to get himself killed. Someone had to take matters into their own hands."

Hermione stared at her. Pansy turned away, flicking her fringe out of her eyes and dabbing a sharp brush into a small jar.

"Sure, Granger. I accept your forgiveness. Please forgive me for seeing to it that you'll never have to experience that potion yourself. Or make a fool of yourself trying to handle a cock for the first time in your life with fifty drooling men watching. Forgive me for getting my lips wet so you could continue playing house with the Malfoys for a little while longer."

Pansy slammed the jar down on the counter and turned to her with the brush. She twirled it between her fingers, her eyes locked on Hermione. Hermione simply stared, closing her mouth slowly from where it had hung open.

"Do you still love him?" she finally whispered, breath tight in her chest.

Pansy's face broke into a sneer. "Don't be so sentimental, Granger." She grabbed Hermione's jaw a bit too roughly and lowered her brush to her eyelids. "There's no place for that here."

Hermione kept silent and still as Pansy finished her eyeshadow, and applied eyeliner and mascara. She examined Pansy's rounded nose and sharp eyes, her creamy skin and long neck, remembering how she used to stumble on Pansy and Draco in sixth year during Prefect rounds, pressing each other into corners or slipping behind statues — and the way Draco's thigh pushed between Pansy's as he kissed her.