You don’t bother looking up at the sound. You already know it’s Pansy. She’s been hovering since it happened—since Theo ripped you open and left you to bleed out in front of everyone. Since you stopped pretending you were fine.

She sits on the edge of your bed. “Enough of this.”

You don’t answer. You barely blink.

Pansy huffs, reaching over to snatch the blanket off your head. “I am not going to let you rot over him.”

“I’m not rotting,” you mutter, voice flat.

“You skipped breakfast. And lunch. And I’m pretty sure if I hadn’t come in here, you’d have skipped dinner too.”

You say nothing.

She groans, flopping down beside you. “Look, I know he was—” She stops, swallows. “I know you loved him.”

Your throat tightens.

“But he’s an idiot,” she continues, fierce. “And an absolute bastard for what he did to you. And I will personally hex his broom so it throws him into the bloody Black Lake first chance it gets.”

That almost makes you smile. Almost.

Pansy sighs. “You didn’t deserve this,” she says, softer now. “You didn’t deserve him.”

Silence settles between you. It’s heavy but not suffocating, not when Pansy’s still here, still stubbornly refusing to let you drown in it.

Then, suddenly, she sits up. “Right. That’s it. We’re going out.”

You groan. “Pansy—”

“Nope. No arguments. Up. Now.” She tugs at your arm. “I don’t care if we have to sneak past Filch, we’re getting out of this castle, and you’re going to remember that you are you and not just some girl Nott decided wasn’t enough.”