AUTHOR'S NOTES:

This was my submission for the HH-Sugarquill's Houses of Hogwarts Challenge Fest 2014 (hh-sugarquill . livejournal . com). The fest is over and reveals are long since out, so I can post this for you here. This fanfic is only a single chapter, so here it is in its complete glory.

Here was the prompt I worked from:

Prompt: Slytherin House

NOTE: This was an experimental writing style incorporating font art. Unfortunately, this site won't allow the uploaded of images to the site (except for 'book covers'), so you won't be able to see the font art below. If you want to see this story as it was submitted to the fest with the artwork, go here instead: / works / 3316187 (remove spaces to make the URL load).

Thank you to the Mod of HH-Sugarquill for putting on this fun fest!

Please review!

DISCLAIMER: "Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. This fanfiction was written entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.

TIMELINE: Final Battle of Hogwarts (2 May, 1998) & aftermath

CHARACTERS FEATURED (alphabetical order, last name): Pansy Parkinson (main), Blaise Zabini, Mr. Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode

SUMMARY: Trapped in the Slytherin common room during the Final Battle of Hogwarts, Pansy Parkinson comes to understand where the true heart of a Slytherin lies.

RATING: PG-13

WARNINGS: Character death (secondary), War violence

DEVOTION

By: RZZMG

Slytherin Green, everywhere.

Hot, dark magic – vibrant and awful.

Hands over her ears, Pansy wailed, wishing she were home. She wanted her mother! Wanted soft hands and gentle reassurances. Wanted to be safe again... Where was her wand? Was her brother out there fighting, too?

Her father... she could care less. He'd stopped being family when he'd taken the Dark Mark, counting the wishes and well-being of a mad man above that of his own family. She truly hope now that he was dead. How she hated him!

HATED HIM!

She'd been right about Potter. Impossible odds. And now he was dead-dead-dead, too. The Dark Lord had confirmed it. She'd heard his bragging deep down in the bowels of the dungeon where she was currently locked away.

Theo and Daphne had believed in Scarhead – a mistake! They'd be punished when it was over.

Daphne was her best friend, Theo a father-to-be. Only three months along, so not yet showing... She'd warn them to fly far, far away. Maybe they'd make it to the continent. A springtime wedding in Paris would be nice.

They would live, and have babies, and would name one of them after her. And she'd never, ever tell where they'd gone, even if she was tortured!

Her thoughts were noisy – a thunderous roar in the sudden, shocking ssssssssssssssssilence.

Finality.

Was it over?

... ... ...

Another concussive BLAST rocked the castle, shaking the very foundation.

People screamed as venerable stone began to crumble. The water of the lake outside the windows were stirred into angry, frothy waves. None of the usual creatures that passed by that pane of glass on a daily basis were now present. The Merpeople had gone into hiding within their ancient underwater fortress, and the Squid had abandoned the lock for the deep caverns below.

Pansy wiped the tears from her eyes with a shaky hand. It was time to go. One her knees, attempting to escape the fumes of nearby fires and the incandescent bursts of ricocheting curses and hexes, it was impossible to focus. War was everywhere.

A shadow moved, stepped in front of her.

...A flash of lightning, as green as an Irish meadow.

Beautiful. Abomination. The scent of a soul burned out.

The shape took form, was familiar... beloved.

"Millie?"

Her friend's broad shoulders slumped forward, a sudden dead weight. She crumpled as if all the bones in her body had been crushed at once. Her flabby cheek slapped hard against the stone floor.

DEAD-DEAD-DEAD.

Pany jerked back.

Millicent's eyes were open, but unseeing.

With a sob, Pansy was on her feet and running. She dashed past steely-faced monsters in black who were killing their own children rather than letting them fall into Order hands.

Something had changed. Maybe Potter wasn't really...?

A hand reached out, grabbing her wrist as she dashed past. Snagged, she fought like a rabid animal for her freedom. A wand pressed against her temple.

"Hold still, Pansy. This won't hurt."

"Daddy, no," she whimpered.

Blaise stepped out of the smoke, grabbed her father's hand and twisted.

"NO!"

A lion's roar from a serpent's mouth.

A crack of bone. Her father gasped. His hold fell away.

"Run, Pansy!"

She faltered, looking over her shoulder. Blaise had her father's wand in his hand, pointed at the man who had given her his eyes and his crooked smile.

"Don't look. Just go."

She did as instructed. Always had, always would. A follower at heart. Not a leader.

Darting for the common room exit, she scurried up the stairs and out...

She hid out the rest of the war in a broom closet down the hall, the scent of bleach and death entrenched in her nostrils forever.

... ... ...

Slytherin Green, everywhere – settling over every heart.

Mentorship pins passed through generations of Slytherins, signifying unity, even in times of great despair or upheaval.

Pansy had worn hers to her brother's traditional burial a few days prior, feeling its sharp sting as it pressed into her skin while sobbing into Blaise's comforting shoulder. And she'd worn it today as well, as she stood by her mother at her father's funeral pyre (although her eyes were decidedly drier).

She'd hated the old man, but some obligations took precedence over personal feelings. After all, to a Slytherin, ambition ruled in all things, yet in the heart of every serpent, this much was primary and unconditional:

FIDE FAMILIARIS.

Loyalty to family.