A Reluctant Husband (4/8)
Title: A Reluctant Husband
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Ron/Pansy
Word count: 3377
Rating: R just to be sure.
Warnings: Mmmm. It's fan fiction?
Author's Notes: A very big round of applause goes to filia_umbrae and dream_mancer for the beta. A thousand thanks, girls. Love you big!
Pansy woke with a start the next morning with a nagging feeling that something was wrong. She looked to the left and noted a tousled and still sleeping Ron. Smiling faintly, she took the moment of peace and tranquility as an opportunity to really study him.
There were lines in his face, but where hers pulled unattractively between her eyebrows, his were around his eyes and mouth, obviously from smiling. His nose was a touch long, and his hair was still very red, but there were a few grey hairs interspersed here and there.
It's unfair, Pansy thought, that his grey hairs and wrinkles make him look distinguished, and mine make me look old.
The sheet was pooled around his waist, but what was above was more than enough to keep her occupied for the moment. He was still well built, having defined muscles without being bulky. Where he'd been a tall and lanky youth, he was now a solid mass of man, and Pansy was pleased with the sight. Around his left arm there was substantial scarring, though, and Pansy reached out a finger to touch the smooth, silvery lines.
"I can feel you watching me." Ron mumbled.
Her finger froze in mid-air, and she dropped her hand altogether. "Oh? Can you?"
"Mmmm. Can't decide if I'm flattered or bothered."
"I should hope the first. You're a very handsome man," she said objectively. "I was admiring you in the daylight."
A dark pink flush crept up Ron's neck and he cracked an eye. "Be serious."
Leaning her chin on his shoulder, she looked up at him. "I didn't think it was possible to blush first thing in the morning. Especially not after last night."
His face reddened even more. "Well, I'm not exactly used to flattery."
Pansy slipped an arm around his waist. "You say, 'Thank you,' and ask the woman in your bed if she'd like some coffee."
Ron chuckled. "Thank you. Having a woman here is so far past normal for me that I've forgotten all propriety."
"I don't need propriety. Just coffee," she assured him.
"Alright," he agreed. He slipped out of bed, and pulled on his discarded pyjama pants. "You'll stay here?"
"Oooh, how decadent. Coffee in bed. Twist my arm," she said, smiling at him prettily.
"I'll be right back," Ron assured her.
The minute the door was closed, Pansy sprang from the bed as if launched, immediately going to the large armoire on the far wall. She riffled through his hanging clothes first, touching the pockets of the trousers to see if they held anything bulky. When that yielded no results, she started on the drawers. She yanked the first open and paused, marveling that the man could find anything at all. She was looking down at a jumble of undergarments and dove in, feeling her way through the clothes to make sure that the object she sought wasn't wrapped up in a pair of boxer shorts or socks.
"Can I help you find something?" a voice asked from the doorway.
Ron stood there, pyjama pants slung low on his hips and bare-chested, and for a moment, Pansy forgot to breathe. Ron Weasley wasn't conventionally handsome, but by Merlin, he got the job done. He held a coffee mug in each hand and his face held what was almost a frown.
Pansy pulled out a pair of wool socks, held them up and gave him a sheepish smile. "Do you mind? I only brought stockings."
"Stockings?" Ron swallowed visibly and nodded to the bed. Pansy gave an internal sigh of relief that he hadn't seen through the lie, pulled on the socks and went obediently back under the covers.
It just went to prove that he didn't know her at all. Wool socks, indeed.
"Shall I put in a floo call to Hogwarts, then?" Ron asked, settling in next to Pansy.
Pansy nodded. "Are you ready for the children to know?"
"No time like the present, right?" he answered. "I mean they have to know, soon."
"It'll be better coming from us."
He reached across and took her hand. "Rose and Hugo will be alright, I think. They don't know you, and they only want me to be happy."
Pansy raised an eyebrow. "They don't know me so they'll have no premature conceptions formed, you mean?"
"N-no, that's not what I meant."
Pansy took a deep breath and thought for a moment. It wasn't as if she could get upset with Ron, when essentially he was right; she was a monster, and if his children knew what she was up to, they'd probably be appalled. He'd defended her, though, at the train station. She supposed that was a fleeting moment in time and not the way things truly were.
And it was no less than she deserved.
"Pansy, look at me," Ron said earnestly. "That's not what I meant at all, I swear. I'm forever saying things without thinking first. Hermione even left me because of it." He shrugged and continued, "Well, for that and her research assistant. One or both."
"It's fine," she assured him. "You didn't hurt my feeling."
"Your feeling?" he asked. "Just one?"
"Oh, maybe two. Lust and Resentment."
"Oh, I see."
"Mmm," she hummed, putting a finger to her lips in thought. "Anger, too."
"See? You do have feelings," he returned with a chuckle, putting an arm around her shoulders. More than those three, too, I suspect, eh?"
"None that anyone can prove."
"Give me time," Ron assured her, lifting her chin so that she looked him in the eye. "I have a feeling you're a bit like Antarctica."
"Antarctica?" Pansy asked skeptically. "I'm a frozen wasteland?"
"What?" he asked. "What? No! No, not by a long shot." Tentatively, he bent his head toward hers. The kiss, when it came, was soft, slow and languid, warming Pansy to the tips of her toes. When Ron pulled away, he was blushing. "All I meant was that you seem icy and impenetrable, but then underneath, you're all volcanoes and swirling, hot lava." He cleared his throat. "And so forth."
Ron Weasely is utterly charming, in his way, she thought, the corner of her mouth turning up in a smirk. "And so forth," she echoed amusedly, sipping her coffee. Deciding they were about to be supremely distracted from her agenda if she didn't change directions soon, she prompted, "So, the children."
"Yes, quite," Ron replied.
*~*~*~*~
After a rather cool shower, Ron pulled on some clothes and knelt by the fireplace with his intended. After he placed the call, a familiar, if somewhat stern, face met them in the flames. If she was surprised to see the two of them together, her countenance didn't show it.
"Hello, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Nott. What can I do for you this morning?"
"Morning, Professor," Ron murmured. "We'd actually like a few days of family leave for our children, if it's not too much trouble."
"Their time will have to be made up, of course," Professor McGonagall said, "but I've already spoken with you about this, Mrs. Nott."
"It's, actually 'Ms.'" Pansy said shortly. "For a few more days, anyway." Frowning, she continued, "And pardon, Professor? I haven't spoken to you about Violet since our parent conference in the fall."
"Just last week, Pansy," McGonagall said, plainly irritated. "When you took Violet from the school."
Pansy's eyes widened and she leaned in to the flames. "I didn't take Violet from Hogwarts."
No one spoke for a moment while the fact sunk in that Pansy's daughter was missing, possiby kidnapped, until Ron finally broke the silence. "I'll notify the Ministry. Pansy, talk to the professor and find out what happened, " he instructed, rushing from the room to find another floo connection.
Pansy spoke with Professor McGonagall, shed the right amount of tears appropriate for her missing teenager, and hit the right balance between hysterics and anger. It wasn't hard; she was bloody worried about her girl, and irritated beyond belief with Hogwarts and its staff for letting some Polyjuiced replica of her take her child. She rose from the fireplace and dabbed real tears from her eyes with a handkerchief as she went in search of Ron.
She found him in the sitting room and froze when she saw just who he was with.
"Hi, Pansy," Harry said.
"Potter," she replied blandly, nodding in acknowledgement.
"Pansy, Harry feels sure we can get her back. He's got a team of Aurors looking at the Hogwarts wards. The people that took her will have left a trace of their magic behind, Pansy. It's only a matter of time before we discover who they are and then we can put a trace on them."
"Yes," she replied. "Alright."
"It's probably someone close to you, Pansy," Harry stated flatly. "Someone that had access to you. Hair, fingernails, skin..."
"I know how the potion works, Potter," she snapped. "I don't know who it could be. I'm sorry."
"It's alright," Ron repeated. "We'll find them, anyway."
Pansy sighed and let Ron envelop her in his embrace. It felt rather nice with her head tucked under his chin, to be comforted for the exact thing she'd been a wreck about. "Do you think she's still alive?" she murmured into his chest.
"We have to assume she is," Harry replied from the other side of the room. "We don't know who took her yet, but we always work from the angle that kidnappings are done for the ransom money. Have you been contacted by anyone out of the ordinary, lately? Someone who was unfriendly, or seemed out of sorts?"
Pansy gave Harry a look from within the safety of Ron's arms. "I've been called 'The Queen Bitch of Slytherin,' Potter. Chances are most people are unfriendly or out of sorts around me, don't you think?"
Ron's arms tightened around her and he made a soothing noise. "We'll get her back, Pansy. I promise." He nodded at his friend, and Pansy watched as Harry stepped in the fireplace as his grim visage was whisked away by a flash of green fire.
Ron drew back and put his large hands on Pansy's fragile shoulders. "Are you alright?"
Pansy's chin lifted even as it trembled a bit. "I want her safe, Ron."
"She will be," he said with certainty.
In another flash of green from the fireplace, two figures rushed immediately for Ron. "Dad!" Rose cried as she threw her arms around her father's middle. "How are you?"
"Fine, Rose," he said, patting her on the back. "I'm fine."
Hugo frowned from behind his sister. "What's wrong, Dad? Professor McGonagall said that Violet Nott was missing. Are you going back to your job at the Ministry to help look for her?"
"Is that why her mother is here?" Rose asked, glancing at Pansy. "By the way, forgive my manners. Hello, Mrs. Nott," the girl said, politely.
"Hello," Pansy murmured.
Ron looked from his children to Pansy and back again. "Er- that is a lot of questions at one time, Rose. Why don't I put on the kettle and we can have a chat and we'll explain everything?"
Rose followed her father into the kitchen, and Hugo was left to escort Pansy in behind them. "I'm sorry about Violet, Mrs. Nott."
"You must be the Hugo I've heard so much about over the years," Pansy said, giving the boy a small smile. He was a year older than Violet, but still had had a good few inches on Pansy.
"I can imagine some of the stories she's told you," he said, looking like a miniature version of Ron as he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "We didn't always get on when we were younger. But we've become, erm, friends this year."
Pansy nodded.
"I can't imagine Vi not being able to hold her own, Mrs. Nott. I'd feel sorry for the kidnappers, if I were you," he said optimistically.
"Call me Pansy, Hugo. Everyone does," she offered as they entered the kitchen.
"You two on a first name basis, already?" Ron asked. "I suppose I mucked up the introductions, didn't I? Pansy," he said formally, "these are my children, Rose and Hugo Weasley."
Pansy smiled and said hello, and Rose folded her hands and looked at the two adults seriously. "I wasn't aware that you two even knew each other," she said, frowning.
"We were in the same year at Hogwarts," Pansy offered.
"Yeah, friends from school," Ron chimed in.
"Friends might be pushing it a bit, don't you think?" Pansy said with a smirk. "Your father wanted to curse me more often than not," she said to the two teenagers conspiratorially.
"Yes, well, that may be," Ron replied, hedging, "but not anymore."
Rose looked at her father expectantly.
"Right," Ron said grimly, pinned under Rose's stare. "You know about the pureblood marriage contracts that the Ministry's offered the past few months?"
"You're getting married," Hugo murmured wonderingly. "That's awkward."
"Well, yes- I mean no," Ron corrected.
"No, you aren't getting married, or no it isn't awkward?" Rose asked, her voice rising.
"We are getting married," Ron clarified. "And it isn't going to be awkward."
"It might be a bit awkward," Pansy murmured under her breath. "But why do you say that, Hugo?"
"Well, Violet and I-" he began, "that is to say, we've been out a few times-"
"They've been snogging in alcoves all term," Rose said in a disapproving tone.
"Have they?" Pansy asked, raising an eyebrow. She held a hand out to Ron's son and said softly, "You must be a bit more worried than I thought."
His face stricken, Hugo let Pansy hold his hand. "A bit, yeah,"
Ron cleared his throat. "Alright. Um, okay, that's the big news. And you know about Violet. The marriage ceremony was to be this weekend, but now... I don't know. I suppose it will depend on when we find her," he said, laying a hand on Pansy's shoulder and offering her a cup of tea.
Pansy appreciated his positive attitude, that he said 'when' and not 'if,' but she was still upset, and she still had another, more pressing, job to do. "Would you excuse me?" she asked, squeezing Hugo's hand and rising. She turned to Ron and whispered, "I just need a few minutes, if that's alright?"
"Of course," Ron assured her, hugging her close before letting her leave the room.
*~*~*~*~*~
Once safe in the privacy of the guest room, she dug out the gold framed hand mirror and was met with a shouting image in its face.
"What in the world have you done, you damned bloody harlot?"
Pansy cast a muffling charm at the door and hissed at the mirror, "Will you be quiet? What do you mean, 'what have I done?'"
"I mean," explained the strident voice, "why do I have the entirety of the Ministry descending upon me, looking for your daughter?"
"I dunno, sir" Pansy growled. "Maybe because she's your granddaughter, as well?"
The voice growled. "There's not an ounce of Nott in her. And how could there be, with you tramping about the countryside the whole time you were married to my son?"
Pansy's jaw set and she shook her head. "I'm not getting into this."
"You'll get into whatever I tell you to, girl!" he shouted. "Have you found it, then? I'm running out of patience."
"No, I haven't," Pansy replied. "I haven't had time. I'll have it in a day, maybe two, depending on if he ever leaves me alone."
"Men not leaving you alone? Never used to be a problem with Theodore."
"Yes, well," Pansy replied, "Theo's tastes were rather eclectic."
"And they will be once again, Pansy dear," said her former father-in-law, from within the mirror. "Find the time turner. I'm losing patience with you. And with your daughter."
"I swear, if you lay a finger on her, I'll-"
"You'll what?" he sneered. "You're in no position to do anything. You find what I need, and then you won't need a new husband, anymore. You'll be able to have your old one back."
The mirror went black, and Pansy had to force herself not to scream and alert the other people in the house to her distress. She was silent, but so frustrated that a few tears streaked her cheeks. At the soft knock on the door, she hurriedly wiped her face and smoothed her hair.
"Yes?" she called softly.
Ron stuck his head in the door. "You okay?"
Looking at his concerned face, she thought about telling him the truth. She thought about confessing everything that was going on, past the fact that her daughter was missing. She wanted to tell him that her father-in-law had Violet, that her daughter absolutely wasn't safe, that Violet wasn't part of his bloodline, so the awful man had no loyalty to her and would have no compunction about torturing her with a stray curse, or even killing her, for that matter. Pansy wanted to tell Ron that she'd engineered his marriage contract to be paired with hers by giving the last of her family's money as a bribe to a low-level Ministry employee. She wanted to tell him that she definitely had to find the award Ron was given that went with the plaque in his sitting room - the one for Special Services to the Wizarding Community. Her information was that he owned one of the last Time Turners left in this part of the world, and it had been given to Ron Weasley for safekeeping, along with the award. She wanted to tell him that she had to find that in order to give it to her former father-in-law so that he could turn back time to save his son from death, and in turn, the monster would give her daughter back unharmed. She wanted to tell Ron that they could never be, even though at this point, Ron Weasley had begun to grow on her and she'd become extremely fond of him in a short amount of time. She didn't want to hurt him, but some things were more important that their feelings.
Pansy closed her eyes and an involuntary sob escaped her.
Before she knew it, she was wrapped in a warm embrace, safe for the moment. He was holding her. Holding her, without any expectation of what she'd do for him in return. He was just giving himself to her. Tentatively, she let herself put her arms around him, as well.
For a moment, Pansy let herself be loved.
It was good that he was going to help find Violet. Pansy had a brief, faint hope that Ron would find her daughter and bring her home safe, and that she wouldn't have to steal from him, or lie to him, or even leave him.
There was hope. But it was faint. Very faint.
Things like that never worked out for Pansy. Her life had gone down a spiral of dreadfulness ever since she'd left school, married Theo and been subject to his family's whims. She'd begun to expect very little from life, because the lower her expectations, the less disappointed she could be.
Whatever the outcome with the time turner, Pansy knew she had to retrieve her daughter and get the hell out of England. If, indeed, it were possible to reclaim Theodore Nott from the dead, she didn't plan on being around long enough for him to use her as his wife in name only, again. She and Violet would go far, far away - far from the Notts, from the Ministry, from her old life, and start over.
She looked up into Ron's blue eyes and felt a pang of regret. If being safe meant having to lose this man, so be it.
She'd never really had him in the first place.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Ron/Pansy
Word count: 3377
Rating: R just to be sure.
Warnings: Mmmm. It's fan fiction?
Author's Notes: A very big round of applause goes to filia_umbrae and dream_mancer for the beta. A thousand thanks, girls. Love you big!
Pansy woke with a start the next morning with a nagging feeling that something was wrong. She looked to the left and noted a tousled and still sleeping Ron. Smiling faintly, she took the moment of peace and tranquility as an opportunity to really study him.
There were lines in his face, but where hers pulled unattractively between her eyebrows, his were around his eyes and mouth, obviously from smiling. His nose was a touch long, and his hair was still very red, but there were a few grey hairs interspersed here and there.
It's unfair, Pansy thought, that his grey hairs and wrinkles make him look distinguished, and mine make me look old.
The sheet was pooled around his waist, but what was above was more than enough to keep her occupied for the moment. He was still well built, having defined muscles without being bulky. Where he'd been a tall and lanky youth, he was now a solid mass of man, and Pansy was pleased with the sight. Around his left arm there was substantial scarring, though, and Pansy reached out a finger to touch the smooth, silvery lines.
"I can feel you watching me." Ron mumbled.
Her finger froze in mid-air, and she dropped her hand altogether. "Oh? Can you?"
"Mmmm. Can't decide if I'm flattered or bothered."
"I should hope the first. You're a very handsome man," she said objectively. "I was admiring you in the daylight."
A dark pink flush crept up Ron's neck and he cracked an eye. "Be serious."
Leaning her chin on his shoulder, she looked up at him. "I didn't think it was possible to blush first thing in the morning. Especially not after last night."
His face reddened even more. "Well, I'm not exactly used to flattery."
Pansy slipped an arm around his waist. "You say, 'Thank you,' and ask the woman in your bed if she'd like some coffee."
Ron chuckled. "Thank you. Having a woman here is so far past normal for me that I've forgotten all propriety."
"I don't need propriety. Just coffee," she assured him.
"Alright," he agreed. He slipped out of bed, and pulled on his discarded pyjama pants. "You'll stay here?"
"Oooh, how decadent. Coffee in bed. Twist my arm," she said, smiling at him prettily.
"I'll be right back," Ron assured her.
The minute the door was closed, Pansy sprang from the bed as if launched, immediately going to the large armoire on the far wall. She riffled through his hanging clothes first, touching the pockets of the trousers to see if they held anything bulky. When that yielded no results, she started on the drawers. She yanked the first open and paused, marveling that the man could find anything at all. She was looking down at a jumble of undergarments and dove in, feeling her way through the clothes to make sure that the object she sought wasn't wrapped up in a pair of boxer shorts or socks.
"Can I help you find something?" a voice asked from the doorway.
Ron stood there, pyjama pants slung low on his hips and bare-chested, and for a moment, Pansy forgot to breathe. Ron Weasley wasn't conventionally handsome, but by Merlin, he got the job done. He held a coffee mug in each hand and his face held what was almost a frown.
Pansy pulled out a pair of wool socks, held them up and gave him a sheepish smile. "Do you mind? I only brought stockings."
"Stockings?" Ron swallowed visibly and nodded to the bed. Pansy gave an internal sigh of relief that he hadn't seen through the lie, pulled on the socks and went obediently back under the covers.
It just went to prove that he didn't know her at all. Wool socks, indeed.
"Shall I put in a floo call to Hogwarts, then?" Ron asked, settling in next to Pansy.
Pansy nodded. "Are you ready for the children to know?"
"No time like the present, right?" he answered. "I mean they have to know, soon."
"It'll be better coming from us."
He reached across and took her hand. "Rose and Hugo will be alright, I think. They don't know you, and they only want me to be happy."
Pansy raised an eyebrow. "They don't know me so they'll have no premature conceptions formed, you mean?"
"N-no, that's not what I meant."
Pansy took a deep breath and thought for a moment. It wasn't as if she could get upset with Ron, when essentially he was right; she was a monster, and if his children knew what she was up to, they'd probably be appalled. He'd defended her, though, at the train station. She supposed that was a fleeting moment in time and not the way things truly were.
And it was no less than she deserved.
"Pansy, look at me," Ron said earnestly. "That's not what I meant at all, I swear. I'm forever saying things without thinking first. Hermione even left me because of it." He shrugged and continued, "Well, for that and her research assistant. One or both."
"It's fine," she assured him. "You didn't hurt my feeling."
"Your feeling?" he asked. "Just one?"
"Oh, maybe two. Lust and Resentment."
"Oh, I see."
"Mmm," she hummed, putting a finger to her lips in thought. "Anger, too."
"See? You do have feelings," he returned with a chuckle, putting an arm around her shoulders. More than those three, too, I suspect, eh?"
"None that anyone can prove."
"Give me time," Ron assured her, lifting her chin so that she looked him in the eye. "I have a feeling you're a bit like Antarctica."
"Antarctica?" Pansy asked skeptically. "I'm a frozen wasteland?"
"What?" he asked. "What? No! No, not by a long shot." Tentatively, he bent his head toward hers. The kiss, when it came, was soft, slow and languid, warming Pansy to the tips of her toes. When Ron pulled away, he was blushing. "All I meant was that you seem icy and impenetrable, but then underneath, you're all volcanoes and swirling, hot lava." He cleared his throat. "And so forth."
Ron Weasely is utterly charming, in his way, she thought, the corner of her mouth turning up in a smirk. "And so forth," she echoed amusedly, sipping her coffee. Deciding they were about to be supremely distracted from her agenda if she didn't change directions soon, she prompted, "So, the children."
"Yes, quite," Ron replied.
*~*~*~*~
After a rather cool shower, Ron pulled on some clothes and knelt by the fireplace with his intended. After he placed the call, a familiar, if somewhat stern, face met them in the flames. If she was surprised to see the two of them together, her countenance didn't show it.
"Hello, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Nott. What can I do for you this morning?"
"Morning, Professor," Ron murmured. "We'd actually like a few days of family leave for our children, if it's not too much trouble."
"Their time will have to be made up, of course," Professor McGonagall said, "but I've already spoken with you about this, Mrs. Nott."
"It's, actually 'Ms.'" Pansy said shortly. "For a few more days, anyway." Frowning, she continued, "And pardon, Professor? I haven't spoken to you about Violet since our parent conference in the fall."
"Just last week, Pansy," McGonagall said, plainly irritated. "When you took Violet from the school."
Pansy's eyes widened and she leaned in to the flames. "I didn't take Violet from Hogwarts."
No one spoke for a moment while the fact sunk in that Pansy's daughter was missing, possiby kidnapped, until Ron finally broke the silence. "I'll notify the Ministry. Pansy, talk to the professor and find out what happened, " he instructed, rushing from the room to find another floo connection.
Pansy spoke with Professor McGonagall, shed the right amount of tears appropriate for her missing teenager, and hit the right balance between hysterics and anger. It wasn't hard; she was bloody worried about her girl, and irritated beyond belief with Hogwarts and its staff for letting some Polyjuiced replica of her take her child. She rose from the fireplace and dabbed real tears from her eyes with a handkerchief as she went in search of Ron.
She found him in the sitting room and froze when she saw just who he was with.
"Hi, Pansy," Harry said.
"Potter," she replied blandly, nodding in acknowledgement.
"Pansy, Harry feels sure we can get her back. He's got a team of Aurors looking at the Hogwarts wards. The people that took her will have left a trace of their magic behind, Pansy. It's only a matter of time before we discover who they are and then we can put a trace on them."
"Yes," she replied. "Alright."
"It's probably someone close to you, Pansy," Harry stated flatly. "Someone that had access to you. Hair, fingernails, skin..."
"I know how the potion works, Potter," she snapped. "I don't know who it could be. I'm sorry."
"It's alright," Ron repeated. "We'll find them, anyway."
Pansy sighed and let Ron envelop her in his embrace. It felt rather nice with her head tucked under his chin, to be comforted for the exact thing she'd been a wreck about. "Do you think she's still alive?" she murmured into his chest.
"We have to assume she is," Harry replied from the other side of the room. "We don't know who took her yet, but we always work from the angle that kidnappings are done for the ransom money. Have you been contacted by anyone out of the ordinary, lately? Someone who was unfriendly, or seemed out of sorts?"
Pansy gave Harry a look from within the safety of Ron's arms. "I've been called 'The Queen Bitch of Slytherin,' Potter. Chances are most people are unfriendly or out of sorts around me, don't you think?"
Ron's arms tightened around her and he made a soothing noise. "We'll get her back, Pansy. I promise." He nodded at his friend, and Pansy watched as Harry stepped in the fireplace as his grim visage was whisked away by a flash of green fire.
Ron drew back and put his large hands on Pansy's fragile shoulders. "Are you alright?"
Pansy's chin lifted even as it trembled a bit. "I want her safe, Ron."
"She will be," he said with certainty.
In another flash of green from the fireplace, two figures rushed immediately for Ron. "Dad!" Rose cried as she threw her arms around her father's middle. "How are you?"
"Fine, Rose," he said, patting her on the back. "I'm fine."
Hugo frowned from behind his sister. "What's wrong, Dad? Professor McGonagall said that Violet Nott was missing. Are you going back to your job at the Ministry to help look for her?"
"Is that why her mother is here?" Rose asked, glancing at Pansy. "By the way, forgive my manners. Hello, Mrs. Nott," the girl said, politely.
"Hello," Pansy murmured.
Ron looked from his children to Pansy and back again. "Er- that is a lot of questions at one time, Rose. Why don't I put on the kettle and we can have a chat and we'll explain everything?"
Rose followed her father into the kitchen, and Hugo was left to escort Pansy in behind them. "I'm sorry about Violet, Mrs. Nott."
"You must be the Hugo I've heard so much about over the years," Pansy said, giving the boy a small smile. He was a year older than Violet, but still had had a good few inches on Pansy.
"I can imagine some of the stories she's told you," he said, looking like a miniature version of Ron as he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "We didn't always get on when we were younger. But we've become, erm, friends this year."
Pansy nodded.
"I can't imagine Vi not being able to hold her own, Mrs. Nott. I'd feel sorry for the kidnappers, if I were you," he said optimistically.
"Call me Pansy, Hugo. Everyone does," she offered as they entered the kitchen.
"You two on a first name basis, already?" Ron asked. "I suppose I mucked up the introductions, didn't I? Pansy," he said formally, "these are my children, Rose and Hugo Weasley."
Pansy smiled and said hello, and Rose folded her hands and looked at the two adults seriously. "I wasn't aware that you two even knew each other," she said, frowning.
"We were in the same year at Hogwarts," Pansy offered.
"Yeah, friends from school," Ron chimed in.
"Friends might be pushing it a bit, don't you think?" Pansy said with a smirk. "Your father wanted to curse me more often than not," she said to the two teenagers conspiratorially.
"Yes, well, that may be," Ron replied, hedging, "but not anymore."
Rose looked at her father expectantly.
"Right," Ron said grimly, pinned under Rose's stare. "You know about the pureblood marriage contracts that the Ministry's offered the past few months?"
"You're getting married," Hugo murmured wonderingly. "That's awkward."
"Well, yes- I mean no," Ron corrected.
"No, you aren't getting married, or no it isn't awkward?" Rose asked, her voice rising.
"We are getting married," Ron clarified. "And it isn't going to be awkward."
"It might be a bit awkward," Pansy murmured under her breath. "But why do you say that, Hugo?"
"Well, Violet and I-" he began, "that is to say, we've been out a few times-"
"They've been snogging in alcoves all term," Rose said in a disapproving tone.
"Have they?" Pansy asked, raising an eyebrow. She held a hand out to Ron's son and said softly, "You must be a bit more worried than I thought."
His face stricken, Hugo let Pansy hold his hand. "A bit, yeah,"
Ron cleared his throat. "Alright. Um, okay, that's the big news. And you know about Violet. The marriage ceremony was to be this weekend, but now... I don't know. I suppose it will depend on when we find her," he said, laying a hand on Pansy's shoulder and offering her a cup of tea.
Pansy appreciated his positive attitude, that he said 'when' and not 'if,' but she was still upset, and she still had another, more pressing, job to do. "Would you excuse me?" she asked, squeezing Hugo's hand and rising. She turned to Ron and whispered, "I just need a few minutes, if that's alright?"
"Of course," Ron assured her, hugging her close before letting her leave the room.
*~*~*~*~*~
Once safe in the privacy of the guest room, she dug out the gold framed hand mirror and was met with a shouting image in its face.
"What in the world have you done, you damned bloody harlot?"
Pansy cast a muffling charm at the door and hissed at the mirror, "Will you be quiet? What do you mean, 'what have I done?'"
"I mean," explained the strident voice, "why do I have the entirety of the Ministry descending upon me, looking for your daughter?"
"I dunno, sir" Pansy growled. "Maybe because she's your granddaughter, as well?"
The voice growled. "There's not an ounce of Nott in her. And how could there be, with you tramping about the countryside the whole time you were married to my son?"
Pansy's jaw set and she shook her head. "I'm not getting into this."
"You'll get into whatever I tell you to, girl!" he shouted. "Have you found it, then? I'm running out of patience."
"No, I haven't," Pansy replied. "I haven't had time. I'll have it in a day, maybe two, depending on if he ever leaves me alone."
"Men not leaving you alone? Never used to be a problem with Theodore."
"Yes, well," Pansy replied, "Theo's tastes were rather eclectic."
"And they will be once again, Pansy dear," said her former father-in-law, from within the mirror. "Find the time turner. I'm losing patience with you. And with your daughter."
"I swear, if you lay a finger on her, I'll-"
"You'll what?" he sneered. "You're in no position to do anything. You find what I need, and then you won't need a new husband, anymore. You'll be able to have your old one back."
The mirror went black, and Pansy had to force herself not to scream and alert the other people in the house to her distress. She was silent, but so frustrated that a few tears streaked her cheeks. At the soft knock on the door, she hurriedly wiped her face and smoothed her hair.
"Yes?" she called softly.
Ron stuck his head in the door. "You okay?"
Looking at his concerned face, she thought about telling him the truth. She thought about confessing everything that was going on, past the fact that her daughter was missing. She wanted to tell him that her father-in-law had Violet, that her daughter absolutely wasn't safe, that Violet wasn't part of his bloodline, so the awful man had no loyalty to her and would have no compunction about torturing her with a stray curse, or even killing her, for that matter. Pansy wanted to tell Ron that she'd engineered his marriage contract to be paired with hers by giving the last of her family's money as a bribe to a low-level Ministry employee. She wanted to tell him that she definitely had to find the award Ron was given that went with the plaque in his sitting room - the one for Special Services to the Wizarding Community. Her information was that he owned one of the last Time Turners left in this part of the world, and it had been given to Ron Weasley for safekeeping, along with the award. She wanted to tell him that she had to find that in order to give it to her former father-in-law so that he could turn back time to save his son from death, and in turn, the monster would give her daughter back unharmed. She wanted to tell Ron that they could never be, even though at this point, Ron Weasley had begun to grow on her and she'd become extremely fond of him in a short amount of time. She didn't want to hurt him, but some things were more important that their feelings.
Pansy closed her eyes and an involuntary sob escaped her.
Before she knew it, she was wrapped in a warm embrace, safe for the moment. He was holding her. Holding her, without any expectation of what she'd do for him in return. He was just giving himself to her. Tentatively, she let herself put her arms around him, as well.
For a moment, Pansy let herself be loved.
It was good that he was going to help find Violet. Pansy had a brief, faint hope that Ron would find her daughter and bring her home safe, and that she wouldn't have to steal from him, or lie to him, or even leave him.
There was hope. But it was faint. Very faint.
Things like that never worked out for Pansy. Her life had gone down a spiral of dreadfulness ever since she'd left school, married Theo and been subject to his family's whims. She'd begun to expect very little from life, because the lower her expectations, the less disappointed she could be.
Whatever the outcome with the time turner, Pansy knew she had to retrieve her daughter and get the hell out of England. If, indeed, it were possible to reclaim Theodore Nott from the dead, she didn't plan on being around long enough for him to use her as his wife in name only, again. She and Violet would go far, far away - far from the Notts, from the Ministry, from her old life, and start over.
She looked up into Ron's blue eyes and felt a pang of regret. If being safe meant having to lose this man, so be it.
She'd never really had him in the first place.