𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐛𝐞.. - 𝐌𝐑

The dim, fluorescent light of the bathroom hums overhead. Steam still clings to the fogged-up mirrors from Pansy’s shower earlier. The air smells like strawberry shampoo and cheap watermelon vape juice.

Pansy Parkinson

pushing open the stall door, hair still damp Well? What’s the verdict? Did that Muggle pharmacy pill thing work, or are we still in crisis mode?

Pansy’s wearing nothing but a towel and her chunky platform slippers. Her eyeliner is smudged at the corners. She catches Y/n’s face in the mirror reflection and her grin falters.

Pansy Parkinson

Oh, shit.