Phew! A chapter of Consumed!
All right. I dunno if anyone remembers where last we left Ron and Pansy, but here's the continuation of Consumed with a much longer chapter than I usually post. Enjoy and all that. Sorry it took me so long to crank one out.
He slammed the door not for any particular reason-certainly he wasn’t upset-but once he’d done it, Ron had to grin a little. It had made Horace jump at least a foot off the ground. “Good morning, Horace.”
Horace looked around the shop shiftily, thought it best not to point out it was nearly afternoon, and finally bade his employer a good morning in return. “I haven’t… you haven’t been in much lately.” Only, the boy thought, to check the till and close things out. Never this early. Well, never in the last month, at least.
“I know.” Ron crossed to him, put a hand on his shoulder. “Awfully sorry about that, mate. Shouldn’t happen again, right? Been a busy month.” Shouldn’t happen again, indeed. It was his shop, for God’s sakes, he’d built Weasley Quidditch from the ground up, had fought long and hard not to get slotted into Ministry work or something of the like just to satisfy his parents.
He had known without a doubt that he would never be able to play professional Quidditch as long as Harry played, and that suited Ron just fine. What did not suit him just fine was losing touch with the one thing he’d considered his big dream. It was more than best his sister was coming back. He didn’t have time for a continued diversion like Pansy Parkinson.
In the meanwhile, Horace was internally bemoaning the end of whatever lucky streak had allowed him so much freedom in the workplace.
As Ron headed toward the back, Horace dogged his steps, the tip of his toes lodging against Ron’s heels once, twice, until Ron stopped. “Bloody hell, Horace, you’ll trod my feet right off. What is it?”
He’d been dreading this moment, right dreading it. He didn’t want to have to tell the boss about it, but it wasn’t his fault! He’d done a few things wrong, sure, but not this. “I was goin’ter tell ya,” he said, his voice falling into a pattern that immediately made Ron think fondly of Hagrid, “But y’ve been gone so much lately.”
Another twinge of guilt. Excellent, Ron thought. A little guilt wiped out the trace amounts of annoyance he was feeling with Pansy’s somehow distant rebuttal.
“Oy, Horace, just spit it out.” His patience was feeling dangerously thin.
“Oneofthebroomsinthebackisbroken.”
It took Ron several long moments to decipher what, exactly, his hired help had said. Once he had, he sorely wished he hadn’t. “I know, Horace. I… that happened on your day off. I should have cleaned it up.”
Visibly relieved, Horace sagged a bit. “Oh thank Merlin, I thought you’d knock my head clean off.” Ron ignored him and headed to the storeroom, intent on cleaning up the mess he and Pansy had made of it. He couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do less, but he didn’t particularly want to leave it all in a wreck.
“Your post is piled up back there!” Horace called after him. “In case you wanted to read any of it!”
“Not bloody likely,” Ron muttered. Business post was always dead boring at best, bills and the like. But boring or no, Ron felt chagrined the moment he saw the massive pile of parchments that had accumulated on the small table in the back room. How in Merlin’s name had he let it get this far? There were things in there he needed to pay, for crying out loud, and who knew what else. “Stupid git,” he told himself, glancing over at the broom on the floor, cracked in the middle. He’d have to clean that up later. For now, there was the matter of all this parchment.
Bloody hell. He hated reading. He contemplated calling Hermione and asking her to go through the great mess of it, but knew better than to let her set one foot in the back. She’d have an office made for him in no time, and then he’d be expected to actually do work in it. Work in an office… Ron shuddered and broke the seal on the first parchment.
He figured it would keep him busy for a good, long while.
~~~
Pansy looked at the crystal clock on the edge of her desk for what must have been the fortieth time in as many minutes, baring her teeth at it when she saw time had somehow crawled to the pace of a flobberworm.
She’d been staring at the same idiotic document for Morgana only knew how long, her head aching with the effort of concentrating on it. She was worried that the caterers weren’t going to arrive on time, was all, she was just worried about the party. Of course that was plenty to be distracted about, wasn’t it?
It wasn’t as though she needed or wanted any more distractions than that.
She turned the Floo-Com to a specific connection, tossed a pinch of powder into the flame, and took a deep breath. Damn it if she could ever remember the name of the department secretary. If Draco would quit being such a stingy bastard and get her one of her own, she could remember her name. “Excuse me,” she snapped, the tone much less polite than the words themselves. A few seconds ticked by-oh, now you move, Pansy thought poisonously at her clock-and finally, someone answered her.
“Yes, Miss Parkinson?” The voice was dry, old, and very haughty.
Pansy decided she didn’t even want to know the old witch’s name. “Have there been any messages for me?” Before the secretary could answer, she tacked on a few more questions. “Has anyone stopped by wanting to make an appointment or see me? Any owls?”
“No, no, and no.” The witch paused for a moment, taking a secret glee in torturing the bawdy barrister. Indecent was what she was, at least in Eldria Trask’s opinion. “And for good measure, no.”
Pansy considered thanking her with a few expletives sprinkled in for good measure, but refrained. All she had to do was get this one contract done and then she could go home and get ready for the party.
If there was anything that set Pansy Parkinson’s mind at ease, it was getting dolled up to go somewhere.
With a pair of sinfully high heels in mind, Pansy turned back to her contract, newly motivated and, of course, not thinking about who would be present to look at her high heels that evening.
~~~
He was late.
Not terribly late, and he could always blame it on work, but he was a bit late.
Not accidentally late, either-intentionally late. He’d seen good and well what time it was and had stayed exactly where he was, sorting through the post and trying to sort through some of his thoughts.
He’d left to go shower at his flat when he should have been leaving to go to the party, and that was all right by him. That way he wasn’t risking getting there before everyone else and being in the caterer’s way or… anyone else’s way. Besides, one was supposed to be fashionably late, right?
He approached the Malfoy mansion, lips already curling a bit as he rubbed his hand self-consciously over his wet hair. Did they have to go and have it here? He understood ickle Drakey probably wanted to see his Mummy first thing upon arriving, but couldn’t Pansy have set something up at Gin’s flat? This was just ridiculous. It was just like her to be completely impractical, he thought, slapping the silver knocker to the door and hoping no one would hear.
He took a step back to look up at all the levels of the house, simultaneously amazed and appalled. This had been one of the most imposing places in the world once upon a time, containing one of the most wicked wizards known to exist. And yet his sister was in there of her own will. He didn’t know that he’d ever understand how she overcame it.
His sister had married a Slytherin, of all people.
Before he could get too maudlin about it, however, the door to the house swung open and he flinched, expecting Draco or the ghost of Lucius, or-
Pans, perhaps?
Someone else. But out of the din of the already-booming party, Ginny hurtled onto the doorstep and threw her arms around him, nearly knocking him over. “I miss you so much,” she whispered, kissing his cheek and stepping back to look at him. She had, and she’d worried about him, as well.
Leaving her brother alone to deal with Hermione and Harry as a combined force hadn’t sat too well with her.
“Thanks for not writing once ever, you big git,” she said, punching him in the shoulder.
Ron gaped at his sister, wondering how someone could change so much in just a month. She was beautiful. Had she ever been beautiful before? She was just… beautiful and good and right.
She was, he thought in a corner of his mind, too good for Harry. Thinking that, he gave her a lopsided grin. Yeah, why shouldn’t she be good enough for any filthy stinking rich Slytherin? She was amazing. “Well, you know, didn’t want to interrupt anything.”
“Smart man.” Draco walked up behind Ginny, moved her hair, and dropped a kiss to the back of her neck. “Weasley.”
“Malfoy,” Ron said, trying to feel angry and failing. Bugger it all, they looked good together, even if the “forever and ever” part of all of it baffled him a bit.
And it was as easy as that.
The door shut behind him, and Ron stepped into the party.
~~~
She wouldn’t have known he wasn’t there yet, and wouldn’t have known when he did arrive, if it hadn’t been for Ginny’s squeal resounding through the already-noisy first floor. She was far too busy organizing things, making certain the food and drink were plentiful. She didn’t notice he was a half an hour late, and notably not standing with the other two parts of his infamous trio.
Pansy didn’t notice a thing, because she didn’t do anything she didn’t want to do.
She’d expected at least a token amount of resistance from Ron-men always acted as though they really wanted to be attached to a woman, even though Pansy had been with enough men to know they were always secretly relieved when they were let off the hook. But he was a Weasley, after all, and his upbringing had hardly afforded him the knowledge that he really ought to make it look as though he’d miss her a little.
But once he got there late, his arrival announced so loudly by Ginny that not even a deaf man could miss it, Pansy smiled a bit into her drink. He wasn’t the type to be fashionably late-he was just being stubborn.
She figured she had her token resistance. Now all they needed was to play cool all evening, not tip anyone off, and she’d find him a suitable substitute.
He’d never even feel a hitch in his step.
“Pansy!” Ginny approached Pansy, dragging her brother in tow, and gave Pansy a quick, one-armed hug. “You didn’t tell me you’d done all this.”
Pansy arched her eyebrow at Ron, who met her gaze steadily, his blue eyes unreadable. “I wasn’t intending to tell you, but it seems your brother had other ideas.”
“And how did you know what Pansy had been up to?” Draco asked, immediately stepping to Pansy’s side. She hardly needed his protection-the way he figured it, even if she weren’t a danger with her wand, she’d be able to kill a man simply by showing him her décolletage-but he was feeling protective, anyway.
“I did stop by my sister’s a few times, you know,” Ron said easily, finally taking his eyes off Pansy. She was in black tonight. Very little of it, he noted wryly, but black nonetheless. He tried not to think about what she did or didn’t have on under the dress, tried not to think of those blood-red nails trailing down his chest, scratching a path below his navel-
He cleared his throat and looked at his sister. “What? I stopped when you told me to. Didn’t want to share any more space with this viper than I had to.”
Pansy’s eyes glinted and she smiled. Tricky, cocksure jerk. “There isn’t enough space in your flat for his insecurity and my personality. Shame about that, love.” This was fun, Pansy thought, playing off one another with Draco and Ginny completely unawares. Like a game.
She was relieved he was taking it well.
“Good thing I asked you to stop, then,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes. “I might have known better.”
“Would that we could all see the future,” Pansy said, raising her glass in a mocking little toast. She saw the door open and close out of the corner of her eye. “I hate to abandon this titillating conversation, pets, but there’s someone I need to speak to.” Pansy paused, putting a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Later, I expect details about the honeymoon.”
Ron didn’t now whether to be disgusted or amused when his sister laughed. He was uneasy suddenly, uneasy with her behavior and with lying to his sister.
He was uneasy with the knowledge that the bantering exchange had really sealed things. They’d put up a front to their family, their friends, and that was that.
“Well, she hasn’t changed a bit in our absence,” Draco noted. Ron wanted to keep his back to her, not watch her progress across the floor, but when Draco gestured with his glass and added, “Case in point,” Ron felt it only polite to turn and look.
He couldn’t say Draco was anything short of correct, Ron thought, watching Pansy as she put her arms around a stunning dark-skinned woman and planted a slightly more than friendly kiss at the corner of her mouth.
No, she hadn’t changed a bit.
Ron could handle a lot of things. He could handle her bawdiness, he could handle her aggression. He could handle her occasional snide remarks about being a Gryffindor, and he could handle her demanding nature. He could handle her breaking things off in a letter just like she would have drafted up a contract.
He couldn’t handle her hopping into someone else’s bed-or bringing someone else to hers-when he’d just been in hers that morning.
And he couldn’t handle that he’d allowed it.
“I can’t stay,” he said suddenly, his voice faraway.
“What?!” Ginny’s shock was apparent. He’d hardly even come in the door, and he hadn’t spoken to Harry or Hermione at all. It wasn’t like him.
Ron shook his head, feeling a bit clearer than he had for several weeks. “I’m sorry. I’d meant to discuss it with you, but… I have to leave.” He dug in his pockets, handed Draco a parchment. “There. A present for you-well, for the both of you. And Gin, here.” He’d meant to talk the matter over with her, get his opinion, maybe take the time to get Harry’s. But it wasn’t all that big of a deal. He was a grown man, he could make up his own mind.
He gave his sister a kiss on the cheek before she could open what he’d given her, and he shook Draco’s hand firmly. “Thanks for bringing her back, mate,” he said, feeling a bit awkward with it.
“As opposed to leaving her there?” Draco asked with a smirk, but Ron was already walking away from them.
~~~
“No.” Tavia laughed and swatted at Pansy’s hand, resting at her lower back. “Pansy, please. Honestly, no amount of cajoling is going to work. I said no.”
“Thought we were back to Miss Parkinson?” Pansy watched her struggle with a grin. “Please, Octavia. You’ll love it.”
“I’m not sleeping with a man you’ve been involved with!” Octavia said, stepping away from Pansy. “You’re a complete nutter!”
Pansy looked at her, wide-eyed. “I’m a complete nutter? You’re the one assuming I slept with Ginny Weasley’s brother.”
Octavia looked around, bent her head. “You wouldn’t be asking me to step in with him if you hadn’t,” she said, her voice low, but she was still smiling. “Your secret is safe with me, but count me out, dear. I’ll never measure up to you in bed, and neither will he.”
Pansy gaped at her for a moment, then threw her head back and laughed. She couldn’t possibly be angry with a woman who had that kind of rationale. Besides, she could be very persuasive. She wasn’t ready to give up so easily.
Ron heard her laugh as he approached, fought back a wince. “Pansy.” His voice was louder than he’d meant it to be, clipped. When she turned to him, her face was flushed, and she looked more than a bit like she’d been caught at something. No bloody wonder, he thought.
“Ron.” Pansy fought back a laugh and reached over to squeeze Tavia’s hand teasingly. He looked magnificent, his hair still a trace damp, his expression serious. If Octavia couldn’t see the attraction now, she never would.
Ron watched her link hands with the woman, felt his stomach tighten. It had been nothing short of insanity for him to think anything had been right about her, anything right about the two of them. She was with a woman, for Merlin’s sake, and while that sounded like every wizard’s dream come true, it wasn’t. “I just wanted to say thank you,” he said stiffly, looking her over meaningfully.
Pansy dropped Octavia’s hand, her face turning red. Surely he wasn’t implying what she thought he was. Surely he wasn’t even thanking her for what had transpired, like she was some kind of-
“For making everything so easy,” he finished, and she opened her mouth to say something, to shoot back a witty retort, but before she could, he had made his way through the crowd and out the door.
“Oh, absolutely,” Octavia said. “I can certainly see there was nothing between the two of you.”
“Shut up, Octavia,” Pansy said, clutching her drink. What in the hell had that been?
~~~
“Great Merlin a fucking petticoat!” Draco exploded, looking at what Ron had handed him. “Gin, look at this.”
“Hm?” Ginny finally tore her eyes away from her brother’s retreat-he’d been in such a big hurry, but he’d stopped to say goodbye to the hostess? It was just bizarre.
Draco passed her the parchment, a completely uncharacteristic smile on his face.
As Ginny read the words, her jaw dropped open. “Well,” she said at length. “I might have guessed that was the only thing to put such a look on your face.”
“Not the only thing,” he said, sliding a hand down her back and over the curve of her bottom. “But close.” She was right-few things would make him happier than the promise of having each and every one of their future children outfitted with the best and latest Quidditch gear for life, courtesy of their uncle Ron.
Draco was trying to remember why he’d ever hated Ron Weasley.
Remembering the parchment Ron had handed her, Ginny unfolded it and read what was written in bold, uniform hand across the page.
Dear Ronald Weasley,
As you may know, the wizarding world is preparing for next year’s Quidditch World Cup, as the last scheduled Cup tournament was disrupted by certain world events.
It has come to our attention that your store and the service you give your customers are unparalleled for your area. We would like you to consider this an invitation to attend the month-long preparatory convention and Quidditch show. You will be given the opportunity to come into contact with some of the world’s best players and bid for their business.
This opportunity is extended to a select few, and so we would very much like to see you there. The arrival times and information can be found below. At the specified times, the enclosed key will be activated as a Portkey.
We hope to see you and your product lines at the convention.
Thank you,
Anupam Sudeshna, Event Coordinator, International Association of Quidditch
“Today,” Ginny said, looking at the list of dates and times. “The first Portkey goes tonight.”
She looked at the door through which her brother had long since exited and blew out a breath.
She’d just gotten home, and already her brother was leaving.