if one of them is dead.

chapter thirty-two.

I breath out a laugh. "He doesn't understand it, and to be honest, I don't think I do either. And I don't really blame him for it. But, yeah, I think I would like to spend the night with you. Just like old times."

That brings a big smile onto Pansy's face. "Yeah," she says, chuckling, "just like old times."

Blaise and Draco stay quiet.

"Draco?" I ask. He hasn't said a word to me since I got down here. "You okay?"

He finally looks me in the eyes and shrugs after a couple seconds. "Yeah, totally. I'm just fine."

"You sure?"

He nods. "Sure."

Pansy claps her hands together and stands up. "All right, then. Come on, Lil, we have a lot of catching up to do, yeah?"

She grabs my hand and I say, "Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," I laugh, and let her pull me up and drag be to the stairs.

She shoves me in her room, flicks in the light, closes and locks the door, and gestures around the room. "Do you like it?" she asks.

"I love it," I breath.

It's beautiful. The walls are a dark green, and the door to the bathroom is black. There is a black desk across on the left side of the bed, with a marble top and silver accents. The bed had black sheets, a white comforter, and black pillows. I don't think Pansy has ever remade the bed, because the blankets are everywhere. Not that I'm complaining.

There are fake vines hanging from the wall. Some were hanging from the frame of a mirror on the wall.

Pansy walks over to the green curtains and opens them, tying them to hooks on the wall. "Sit on the bed, we need to talk," she says.

I sit on her bed and watch her tie the other curtain to the side.

"Okay," she says, walking over to the bed before sitting across from me, "talk."

"About what?" I ask because I really don't want to talk. If I start talking, I might not stop. But I don't want to keep secrets from her because I know she means well. But we all need to keep our secrets, and I'm still going to keep mine, no matter how much I trust someone.

She rolls her eyes. "Everything. Spill."

"Okay, well, after Mattheo and I got together, things started changing, I guess. I don't know," I say, and laugh. I don't know why I'm laughing. I shake my head. "I'm not sure what started happening. I love him, Pansy. You know that, there's nothing he could have done for me to stop. And I'm not sure what happened. Maybe it's just that the war is coming closer. I mean, we all know this is probably the last half way sane year here before it all goes to shit."

Pansy nods, and she looks like she is actually listening. Maybe she had changed a little bit. Sometimes she would listen really well, and other times she would just completely ignore you when you were trying to talk to her. I just hope that I won't regret this.

"I screwed up, Pansy. I screwed up really bad. Like really, really bad."

She furrows her brows. "What do you mean? What did you do?" She makes her voice sound soft, as if she's a sort of good therapist. But she's better than one.

"I did what I needed to do, but not what we wanted me to do."

"What?" she asks, and she looks genuinely confused.

I guess that's one of my new specialties. When you lie, and when you don't tell the whole truth, you have to reword things and it ends up sounding weird. Sometimes it doesn't, but sometimes it does. Holes go into it all, and things need explaining. Sometimes it sounds like a riddle. If you're good enough at it, people don't ask questions because it makes enough sense that they don't feel the need to ask questions.