Pansy sat down across the table and pulled one of the folders across the wood. "I'm fine," she said.   If she hadn't flinched just a tiny bit when she shifted, Hermione might have believed her, despite her own experiences and the other woman's wan face.  No one could project defiant confidence quite the way Pansy Parkinson could and, as she studied the way Pansy made a show of flipping through the parchment and sorting it out, Hermione wondered what had made her that way.  It wasn't the attitude she'd have expected from the privileged pureblood.