Who: Pansy & Draco What: Waking up briefly, Draco's birthday, etc. When: Sunday, 5 June, 2001 Where: St. Mungo's, Pansy and Fletcher's room Warnings: TBD. Status: Threaded; Incomplete
Pansy had felt like she'd been trapped inside a nightmare for innumerable days with no hope of waking from them. It was like those dreams when you fall from the edge of a cliff and immediately wake up with your heart racing except that her dreams were far worse and she couldn't wake up from hers. At some point, though, her subconscious had found a quiet opportunity to ease her back into consciousness and it had taken a while past that for her to fully awaken.
Even now Pansy was frightened. It had taken several Healers to convince her she was at St. Mungo's and not locked away in that spider-infested cell the Dark Lord had had her kept in. And after that she still wasn't convinced that every single hand that touched her wasn't about to hurt her. She refused potions--after the ones she'd been forced to drink 48+ hours she'd been held captive made her wary of anything that she had not brewed herself.
Without the Calming Draught, though, even her waking hours were plagued with sudden flashbacks to the things she'd seen and the pain she'd felt with the curses and the potions. The Cruciatus has driven her somewhere near madness but Pansy at least had a tight enough grip on reality to not be irreparably damaged. It would take a long while for her to figure out her own head again, which wasn't to be discounted, but at least she was not permanently mad.
Even so, Pansy hated being here. She wanted to be away from all of these people who made her nervous. She wanted to be locked away in her own flat with her own things where she knew everything that hid in the shadows because everything in her flat was her own and familiar. She wanted these people to stop touching her, to stop trying to make her do things she didn't want to do.
And then there was the fact that Pansy could remember small bits of the raging battle she'd been in when she'd escaped her prison. She remembered her own body being splinched from her Apparition and broken and battered from her captors. But worse than that, she remembered arriving just in time to see Voldemort fall at Draco's hand and then someone try to return the favor on Draco. She hadn't seen him after that, didn't know if he had lived. Her nightmares ranged anywhere from her family, her brother, being tortured to death to lying lifeless on the cobbled ground in Hogsmeade or the same for Draco. These were just a few of the things she'd mentally lived through while in captivity and then while asleep and she didn't know which ones were real and which ones had been figments of her imagination. She'd seen Fletcher at least. But she refused to calm down until she saw Draco, too. Even then she would refuse to sleep because sleep was where the badness was and she never wanted to go back there again.