We Should Have Had The Sun

By Lylian

Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime and falling in at night.

- Edna St. Vincent Millay

It was lonely without him. Many others had not returned either.

Daphne Greengrass—gone. Millicent Bulstrode—gone. Vincent Crabbe, Theodore Nott, Morag Macdougal—all gone.

The common room was emptier than usual, and there were only six new first years. But she did not care much about this. All she cared about was him.

Where was her stability now that he had departed? Gone with him.

He had left her, and she questioned the unfairness of it all.

"Self preservation," he had told her once in reply to her question of why. That was months ago, back in June when his presence was still tangible. There had been rumors since then. These rumors told of his demise for his failure to complete the Dark Lord's task.

She would not believe it until she saw his body for herself. This was her pride—the only thing she had left. But why would she stand for a belief with no evidence?

It was because she was Pansy Parkinson, and she stood firm for Draco Malfoy always.

Hogwarts was worse for Slytherins this year. The harassment during the previous years was nothing compared to Pansy's seventh year.

The first years were at the front of the battle. They received the hisses and boos right from the beginning, during sorting.

From the moment that "Burke, Landon" to "Parkinson, Peony" were named Slytherins, the glares from the other houses could not be more apparent. It was clear that they had no allies in this place.

Pansy seethed. How dare they put her sister through these horrid assailments? She was only a child.

The first piece of advice Pansy had given her sister along with the other first years was this: "It's a dangerous time to be a Slytherin. Be proud of your persecution because they will receive their punishment in due time. However, one must also take precautions. Never walk alone."

A boy named Landon sneered at her. "And why should we listen to you?"

With his cynical voice and pompous manner, Pansy almost smiled. All the boy needed now was blond hair.

Pansy broke from her reverie and put the boy in his place.

"You'll listen to me if you know what's good for you," was her retort.

The boy huffed and returned to his indifferent demeanor. But Pansy knew he had not taken her advice when a week later, she found Peony coddling him in the darkened corner of the common room.

"Are you alright, Landon?" asked Peony as her sister approached from behind. Both Peony and Landon looked up at her.

"You didn't listen," Pansy stated. He looked away in shame, covering his blackened eye from view. Pansy waved her wand at his face. The bruise was instantly covered up.

"Next time think, and don't be a disgrace to us all."

Pansy walked away then. She was normally not the nurturing type, but the numbers of Slytherins were diminishing. No one could think them weak, or they'd all fall apart. Sticking together was imperative, and then they would never be broken. This was their means of survival.

Pansy was never seen without Tracey Davis, Gregory Goyle, or Blaise Zabini. They were all that was left of their once powerful assemblage. In the halls, they walked as one unit, never separated or apart, lest attacks came their way.

And the attacks did come.

During Potions, Lisa Turpin tripped Tracey on her way to turn in a scalding assignment.

"Oops," said the Ravenclaw mockingly.

Tracey's hands were severely burned, and Professor Slughorn sent her straight to the infirmary after saying, "You'll have to redo that potion another time, Miss Davis."

Tracey didn't say a thing. She couldn't bring herself to tell what really had occurred. Slughorn was not Snape. No teacher was on their side anymore. No one protected those of Slytherin house. No one could possibly understand that they were alone.

During the first Quidditch match of the season, Slytherin went against Hufflepuff, and Slytherin did not win.

To everyone's surprise, Greg was one of the two remaining Quidditch players from the former team. The other was a fourth year chaser named Vaisey. It was Gregory Goyle who surprisingly received the title as Slytherin Quidditch Captain.

He was not an extraordinary leader, but he knew the game enough to play it well. However, their previous tactics didn't work with Madam Hooch's suspicious eyes trained on them like a wary sniper. Even the sunless weather did not hinder her.

Every minor fault in their play was spotted, and fouls that weren't made were called. Greg coaxed his new team to play as clean as possible, but anything they did was penalized.

When Zacharias Smith intentionally seized the tail of Greg's broomstick to throw him off, Madam Hooch turned a careful eye. She opted for selective amnesia, even as Greg approached her with a bloodied nose.

The undersized crowd's calls of protest were drowned out with jeers of hatred and dark glares. Slytherin lost as the entire school looked down on them.

One night patrolling the halls, Pansy heard aggrieved groans in the shadows of a broom closet. She whipped out her wand and prepared for the worst. But as she opened the door cautiously, it was not what she had expected.

What she saw was horrific. Blaise was tied from a wall, his shirt torn, lips bleeding and eye swollen. He could barely touch the floor from where he hung.

She immediately removed his bindings, and Blaise crumpled like a heap onto the stone floor.

"Blaise, get up," Pansy said desperately. She coaxed him into a kneeling position. "Who did this to you?"

"Boot and his gang," he said shallowly, as if it hurt to breath. A quiet rage came upon her, and Pansy vowed to repay the bastard.

"C'mon Blaise," she said, helping him stand. "We have to get you to the Hospital Wing."

"No," Blaise replied fiercely. "We're on our own."

He pressed a hand to his ribcage, trying to alleviate the pain.

"Blaise, don't be stupid. You are seriously hurt. I can only do so much. Madam Pomfrey will be able to fix you up in two minutes."

"I said no, Pansy," Blaise responded with ferocity. There was no arguing with that tone.

"Fine," she replied reluctantly. Though close to tears, she didn't shed a single one as they limped through the darkened dungeons. She had to be the strong one.

Pansy never missed Draco more than she did at this moment, when it was she who played the infallible Slytherin.

When it was she who needed him the most.

Author's Notes: Written on January 5, 2007 and finished on April 5, 2008, this story was found in one of my old notebooks that I rediscovered lying around. I honestly didn't feel as if it ended completely, as if there is more to the story. The title is a tribute to Gavin Rossdale's new single, Love Remains The Same. Check it out! It's sooo good! You can listen to it on YouTube, if you want. The alternate title for this drabble was A Sense of Vacancy, but I think I'll save that for another story.

Hope you enjoyed. Tell me your thoughts and review!