i.
Pansy hated flowers. No, really. She absolutely loathed them, no matter what kind. They positively swarmed with bees and ants and any number of tiny pests that she would be happy to never again encounter. They didn't even make up for that great failing by smelling nice, no matter what Shakespeare said.
She hated flowers, bugs, and dirt in general, and Daphne knew that.
"Babe. Please. Mum's Flutterblooms are dead and she loves them more than she loves me, so if you want to see me alive tomorrow then please just help me out. It'll take five minutes." Static crackled through the line, only mostly obscuring the wail of a baby.
"Why can't you do it?" Pansy whined, banging her head back into the cabinet. She already knew the answer, and Daphne knew that she knew, so the lack of a response didn't surprise her. "Fine," she spat, sliding off her perch on the kitchen counter. "I'll get your bloody plants."
The wailing picked up again, this time louder and more insistent. Even though Pansy couldn't make out Daphne's words, she could tell that she was grateful. She'd better be, anyway.
After hanging up, Pansy paced aimlessly around her kitchen, trying to decide how much she actually cared about her best friend. Mrs Greengrass's sole joy in life was her garden, easily eclipsing any affection for her children or husband. Of course, she wouldn't kill Daphne. That seemed a little dramatic, even for her. She wouldn't put it past the woman to kick Daphne and her kid out of the house, or worse, so it really was a big deal. Pansy didn't have enough room in her flat for three people, and besides that she couldn't stand children.
If she was really doing this, then she'd better get a move on. It was a little after two in the afternoon and Mrs Greengrass was due home in about three hours. She would buy them, but she wouldn't help plant the bloody things, Pansy compromised. It didn't make her feel a whole lot better about it, but she still grabbed her keys.
The drive was, as usual, a nightmare. London at pretty much any time of day would be guaranteed to have at least one traffic jam. It was sweltering out, and Pansy eyed the horizon with disdain. At least there were no bees in sight. She finally found the shop she was looking for in a curiously secluded part of London, on the very outskirts. She pulled into the parking lot- if one could even call it that, it was just a large patch of dirt- and squinted at the building.
The florist's strongly resembled a large greenhouse, except for the sign that read in block letters: Weasley's Weeds. Charming. Pansy wrinkled her nose and got out of her car. The sun reflected off the glass and nearly blinded her.
It took an embarrassingly long time to find the door, as there was no discernible entrance on the front of the structure. She was positive that everyone inside could see her wandering around and around the parking lot.
After a solid two minutes of searching, Pansy discovered a sliding glass door on the side. She pulled it open and stepped inside.
There were flowers everywhere. Not just flowers, but also bushes and trees and all sorts of things that Pansy most certainly did not like. Rather than spending even more time trying to find Flutterblooms on her own, she made a beeline for the only visible employee. His name tag read "Fred Weasley" and nothing else. No position, no greeting, nothing. "Hi," she started briskly. "I'm looking for Flutterblooms?"
The employee shook his head, a sympathetic frown pasted on his face. "We're expecting more in tomorrow. Normally they aren't this popular, but I suppose there are fads just like with everything else."
"Er... Right. Thanks anyway." She started to turn away, eyeing the field of green. What was she going to tell Daphne? It wasn't like there was an abundance of florist shops in London, not ones with such rare plants as Flutterblooms. She'd checked.
"Would you like to leave a number to contact when we do get more in?" She'd already forgotten his name. Frank? Flynn?
Pansy turned back toward him, if only to sneak another glance at his name tag. Fred. Right. "Yes, actually," she said after a moment. "Do you have a pen?"
ii.
"What do you mean they were out? How can you be out of fucking Flutterblooms?" Daphne looked ready to hurl her mug of coffee across the room. Her blonde curls were crumpled and frizzed out, her eyes beginning to shine with tears. Pansy tried her best to shrink into herself. "Mum is going to be home in an hour! She's going to kill me and put Pandeia up for adoption somewhere, I just know it!"
Pansy let out a breath and sucked one back in as slowly as she could manage before exhaling again. "At this point there's little choice but to promise to get them replaced," she said. "I know that's not the ideal solution, but it's the best we can do."
"Oh, shut up!" Daphne shrieked, this time actually hurling her cup into the wall. It didn't shatter nearly as thoroughly as Pansy had expected it to, merely separating into four large chunks. Pansy stared at the pile of now-useless ceramic before looking at Daphne when she began to sob.
"She won't... You know she won't kill you, right?" Even Pansy wasn't convinced, but it made her feel better to say it. "She wouldn't kill her daughter."
Daphne scoffed, tears streaming down her face. "You don't really believe that."
"No."
iii.
"Hi, yes, is this Weasley's Weeds?" Pansy wrapped the hand not holding the phone snugly in her hair and pulled herself up onto the counter. "This is Pansy Parkinson, and I'm calling to see if you have any Flutterblooms in stock yet?" She chewed her lower lip, staring straight ahead at a discolored stain on her wall.
The voice on the other end was oddly soothing, somewhere between deep and reassuring and high and mocking. "Oh, hello Pansy! You were the one who came in yesterday, right?"
"Yes, yes. Do you have Flutterblooms?" Too impatient. Too anxious. She needed to calm down.
"Hm, no, not as I recall. We have seeds, if you want those, but-"
"No, no, I need, er, fully grown ones." Bugger it. She pulled on the clump of hair, dragging her head back so she was looking at the ceiling. "Can you call this number when you get some in? As soon as possible? Thank you." Before Weasley could respond, she hung up the phone.
Deep breath in, breathe out. In, out. Sucking in a breath once again, she groaned, "Fuck." That about summed it up.
iv.
It was nine o'clock in the morning, and Mrs Greengrass was gone again. Pansy pulled out her key ring and found the tiny silver one that opened all four locks on the front door. The front lawn was perfectly maintained, though not as meticulously as the garden behind the house. It took several moments to get the door open.
"Daphne? Panda?" she called, trying her best to keep the trepidation out of her voice. "I'm in the living room, okay?"
"Be right down," Daphne yelled down the stairs, to Pansy's immense relief. "I'm changing Pandeia, there's food in the fridge."
Good, she was starving. She slipped her sandals off and ambled over to the gleaming white refrigerator, feeling her feet stick slightly to the linoleum. It was too cold in there, easily ten degrees. Maybe less. The air soothed her sunburned skin.
She'd dug out a box of strawberries and was gnawing her way through them when she heard Daphne's footsteps creak on the carpeted stairs. Pansy turned to greet her, but stopped short at the sight of her face. "Daphne..." she said flatly, but couldn't think of anything else to say.
"It's pretty bad, isn't it?" She shifted Pandeia to her hip and used her free hand to trace over the laceration on her cheek. It was fresh and raw and red, and Pansy could tell she was trying not to move her face so it wouldn't reopen.
"Yeah." She wasn't going to lie, it did look awful. It would most certainly scar. This wasn't the first time something like this had happened, but it was the first time it was somewhere so visible as her face. "Is there anything else?"
Daphne shook her head, tightening her grip on her baby. "Not this time. She told me she wants them replaced before the end of the week. Any luck?"
"No. I'll keep trying."
"Thanks. I love you."
"I love you too."
v.
"Why do you need these so badly, if you don't mind me asking?" Weasley asked.
"I do mind. I'll call again tomorrow."
vi.
It was noon on Friday when she finally got the call. Snatching up the phone, she blurted, "Yes? Are they in?"
Weasley chuckled, and something in Pansy relaxed at the sound. It was so unusual to hear someone actually happy. "Yeah. Come down when you can, all right?"
"I'm heading out right now," she said, and hung up.
The drive seemed even slower that day. It was a Friday, so of course it was, but even those extra few minutes were nearly unbearable. She didn't care at all about her crooked parking job, and didn't even lock her car as she sprinted to the door and flung it open.
"Where are they?" she gasped, aware she was being rude.
Weasley handed her a pot with a flowering plant that appeared to be made out of interwoven vines. He cradled another three in his arms. "Do you need help taking these out to your car?"
Normally, Pansy would have refused, but every moment was precious. "Yes, please," she panted, already starting to speed-walk to the parking lot. Weasley followed at a more sedate pace. Once all four plants were situated in her car, Pansy jumped into her driver's seat and took off, barely closing the door before hitting the gas pedal.
vii.
She helped plant them after all, ignoring the dirt and the bugs and the germs. They finished just as Mrs Greengrass's car pulled into the driveway. "I love you," she reminded Daphne before sneaking away to the next street over where her car waited.
viii.
The man on the next shift arrived an hour and a half later than usual, so Pansy arrived home shortly after three in the morning. She wanted nothing more than to shower and go to bed, but the flashing light on her answering machine stopped her. Covering a yawn, she pressed the playback button.
"Hi Pansy, this is Fred from Weasley's Weeds. Thank you for your business, we hope to see you again."
What a waste of thirty seconds. She'd never go back to that bloody place if she could help it. Still, after a day of stress and yelling, the simple friendliness made her feel just a little bit better.
She didn't jump into the shower right away, as she'd originally wanted to. Instead, unsure what possessed her to do so, she drew a scalding hot bath and climbed in. The water eased her muscles, and before she knew it she'd fallen asleep.
ix.
Early the next morning, Pansy puttered into her kitchen and opened a bag of bread. She put two slices into the toaster and went to get out the butter and a knife. Before she could, however, the phone rang. Not looking at the caller ID, Pansy picked up the receiver and put it to her ear. "Hello?"
"Pansy? This is Fred."
She stopped short, reacting just a moment too late when the toast popped up. "Fred? Weasley? Why are you calling, is something wrong?"
"Yes, actually. You never paid for the Flutterblooms. I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt and assuming that you weren't actually trying to steal them, and were just in a hurry and forgot. Please come down as soon as you can."
"Shit," she murmured, scraping butter onto the toast. For all that she'd done it every morning for years, she could never get the angle quite right. The butter melted around the edges but not in the middle. "I'm so sorry. I'm getting in the car right now, I wasn't trying to steal them, I promise."
Fred laughed at her flustered apologies. "No problem. Bring forty-two pounds with you. I'll see you then."
"Right, right. I'll be right there." How could she be such a moron? Pansy was lucky he wasn't pressing charges, since it was a crime to do what she'd done. Larceny, was it? Or just plain theft?
Her wallet was on her nightstand, where it always was. She picked it up and counted her money. She had enough cash, fortunately, and then some as an apology.
The route to Weasley's Weeds was familiar to her now, familiar enough that she didn't even have to think about it. She got there in record time, and got out of her car slowly, like a normal person. She also walked to the door slowly, like a normal person. Even though her body twitched in its desire to move faster, she maintained her steady (normal person) pace.
Fred looked up and laughed. Pansy didn't care to know why, particularly. She was busy focusing on making sure the bees stayed far, far away from her. The greenhouse had never seemed quite so large as in that moment. The walk took forever and a half, it seemed, but Fred crossed the remaining distance and grinned down at her. He really was much taller than her, by perhaps a whole foot. Pansy was on the shorter end, a problem that Fred had probably never experienced. He was lanky and lean, like the universe decided to change their plans for him and stretched him out vertically. If Pansy weren't so anxious, she probably would have been amused at the thought.
"Here," she said, handing him the pile of bills. He didn't even count them, just put them in a front pocket on his maroon apron.
"Why don't you stay for a while?" Fred asked, smile still firmly in place. It looked natural on his face, oddly enough. No one was that happy to see Pansy.
Pansy nodded. "I have work at six," she warned.
"That's fine."
"I hate flowers. And bees. And dirt."
"We can sit outside."
"That doesn't solve the dirt-and-bugs problem."
"But at least we can move around."
"Is this what you do for all of your customers?"
"No."
She didn't ask why she was a special case. Yes, she was curious, but another part was afraid that it was a joke, that the warm feeling of being wanted around would go away. So instead she asked, "You don't get very many people here, do you?"
Fred laughed again. "Just old folks, mostly. The occasional hassled mom. Very rarely people like you."
This time she did ask, hesitantly, "People like me?"
"Young." Fred looked down for a moment, his sunny disposition faltering, before looking back up at her with the smile restored.
Pansy wasn't one to pry. This topic was one she would leave alone, and maybe- maybe- she would visit him sometimes. He was starved for human companionship, and no wonder, with such an out-of-the-way sort of shop. "Let's go outside, then. I have a few hours."
x.
She thought about Fred even after she left, waving out her window at him while pulling out of the dirt lot. She thought about him even after she got to work, and especially as she zoned out watching the security cameras. She thought about him even after she'd dragged herself home, and she thought about him until she fell asleep.
It was what her little sister called NRE: New Relationship Euphoria. It had been so long since Pansy had formed any new interpersonal connections that even the lonely florist appealed to her. She supposed it was pathetic no matter how she looked at it.
Sitting at Daphne's kitchen counter, waiting for her to finish making pancakes, it was all she could do not to gush about Fred. Still, she couldn't resist at least letting her best friend know about him.
"You've finally met someone?" Daphne deadpanned. "I'm glad. You're too reclusive."
"Yeah," Pansy agreed, narrowing her eyes at the blonde's profile. "I mean, he's nothing really special. I feel sorry for him. His twin died and left him to run the shop on his own, and hardly anyone ever goes in there. I just figure it's the right thing to do."
Something in Daphne's posture relaxed minutely. "Good. That's good." Pansy knew she was talking about more than Pansy's humanitarian endeavor. There was a silence, filled only by the hissing of the stove and Pandeia's steady breathing from the couch. Just as Pansy was about to change the subject, Daphne said, "Besides pitiful, what's he like? Is he at least good company?"
Pansy nodded slowly. In truth, she was infatuated with him, but it wouldn't do to tell Daphne that. Besides, it was temporary. She always got obsessed with anyone who actually wanted her around and had a brain cell in their head. It had happened when she first met Daphne, not that Daphne knew about that. It would pass, and either Pansy would get tired of him or he would become a permanent part of her life. Instead of verbalizing that reality, she said, "He's got a sense of humor, at least. And he doesn't insist on talking about his bloody plants all the time like I thought he would. Way too forthcoming, though. I know his whole life story, from how many people he has in his ridiculously large family to why he had to drop out of university. It can get tiring, having to nod along to everything like I care."
Daphne laughed, quietly so as to not wake up the baby. "So he won't stick around for long?"
"Probably not." We'll see.
xi.
For Fred's sake, Pansy would tolerate the unpleasantness of the outdoors. She just wouldn't be happy about it.
It was a Tuesday morning, and for once Pansy had some evidence that people really did come to Weasley's Weeds. A stocky, middle-aged man was puttering through the aisles, peering through large square glasses at some sort of bush with spiky leaves. Pansy tried hard not to pout.
He was slow, and Fred was patient, but eventually the man made his choice and waddled with the pot out to his car. Pansy wasn't surprised to see that he drove a blindingly white Pontiac.
"That's usually about the most I get on weekdays," Fred remarked, turning to Pansy. "You don't have to stand in the corner quite so awkwardly, you know."
"Is there a certain level of awkwardness I should be aiming for?" Pansy quipped, her lips turning up in a smile against her will.
Fred pretended to consider for a moment, and then said, "Perhaps fifteen percent awkwardness. Can't have you too comfortable, right?"
Pansy laughed, actually laughed, which was weird but nice. "With all the bees everywhere I don't think you have to worry about that."
"Let's go outside," Fred suggested, holding out his hand. Pansy stared at it for several heartbeats before Fred lowered it back to his side. "Sorry, habit."
"No need to apologize," Pansy returned, yet she was unable to recover the easy smile she'd managed so effortlessly just a minute before.
xii.
She returned the next morning out of pure stubbornness. She was being silly, and she knew that, so she couldn't allow herself to react so strongly to something so tiny.
"I really appreciate this," Fred said, not looking at her.
Knowing full well what he was talking about but still wanting him to say it, she asked, "Hm?"
"You coming here all the time. You have no obligation to, and the fact that you do it anyway... It just means a lot." He still wasn't looking at her, but Pansy spotted the blush rising up his neck and turning all the visible skin on his head bright red.
"You're such a sap," Pansy chortled, and things were okay again.
xiii.
The phone rang. Not that there was anything inherently wrong with that, as she did get calls from time to time, but she'd just gotten home from work and it was late. She picked up the receiver and put it up to her ear, pinching it in place with her shoulder. "Hello?"
Daphne's voice filtered through in a whisper so quiet her words seemed to be formed from static. "Can you come over tomorrow? Please? As soon as Mum leaves?"
"Yeah, of course, what's the matter?" Pansy stopped short and listened intently, afraid that even the rustling of her clothing would be too loud.
Raw, heavy breathing was the only response she got, before a muttered, "I have to go."
The line went dead.
xiv.
Pansy let herself into Daphne's house. Mrs Greengrass's car was gone, but that didn't stop Pansy from jumping at every little noise.
Not seeing Daphne anywhere on the ground floor, Pansy trudged up the stairs and knocked on her bedroom door. "It's me," she said, pitching her voice so it wouldn't carry.
"Come in." That was worrying; Daphne was emotive and colorful, not made of stone as her tone was attempting to suggest. Pansy pushed the door open to see her best friend cradling her child in her arms, rocking back and forth. It wasn't the loving embrace Pansy associated with Daphne, but rather a quivering cage, or perhaps a shield. Her arms wrapped as much around herself as around Pandeia, her head tucked down so her hair concealed the both of them.
"Daphne," Pansy breathed, rushing over to hold her. "What happened? You called me so late, you never do that, what's going on?"
"She-" Daphne rasped, then cleared her throat to start over. "She threatened Pandeia." She leaned back into Pansy like she was freezing to death and Pansy was a warm hearth.
"She's never done that before." Pansy tightened her grip on the two people most important to her in all the world. "You can't stay here, you can't. I'll kill her for you. She will never put her hands on Panda ever again."
"Then we're in agreement," said Daphne, her voice very small. "That we have to get out, I mean. Not that you should kill her. Not that it wouldn't be perfectly karmic, but..."
"I don't have the connections she does," Pansy finished. Not that that would stop her, really, but insisting on having her way would only upset Daphne further. "You can stay with me, cramped as it'll be, until you and I can save up enough to get a bigger place."
"Thank you," Daphne said, though it was hardly necessary. "We're already packed."
xv.
For the first time in weeks, Pansy didn't make the drive to Weasley's Weeds. She did call Fred to explain why and that she would be able to visit again soon.
Daphne and her baby stayed in Pansy's bedroom, with Pansy taking the couch in her living room. It wasn't an entirely satisfactory arrangement, as the couch was old and lumpy and Daphne felt guilty for taking over her space. Pansy picked up a second job, this one in the morning, to be able to support the three of them. Baby food was expensive. Daphne promised that as soon as they were safe, she would also start working.
Pansy started calling Fred during the day rather than leave him completely alone. He understood that it was necessary, though Pansy hadn't given him much detail on the situation.
Things were precarious, certainly, but temporary. Pansy would make sure of it.
xvi.
"Fred?" she asked hesitantly. "I need a favor. Please."
"Of course, what do you need?" Fred's voice, reassuring as always, crackled into Pansy's ear.
She shook her head, even knowing that he couldn't see it. "Don't sign a blank check like that. This is going to be... testy."
A pause, then, warily, "What do you need?"
xvii.
One ring. Two. There was a click on the other end of the line.
"Hello? This is Nephele Greengrass." Bloody annoying, as always, haughty and impatient and, in this case, tense.
Pansy's lip curled, but when she spoke it was perfectly pleasant. "Hi, Mrs Greengrass! I'm Pansy, a friend of Daphne's. She recently moved into my flat but I'm getting worried about her? I keep finding liquor bottles in her room and I can't help her by myself. I'm at work all day, you see, and I'd really like it if someone could keep an eye on her. Would you mind coming over so all three of us can discuss this together? I'm positive that as her mother you'll be able to make her see reason better than I ever could."
"Of course," Mrs Greengrass purred. "What's your address? I'm free tomorrow, if that's all right with you."
"That's just fine," said Pansy, her mouth twisting into a parody of a smile.
xviii.
She welcomed Daphne's mum into her flat with as genuine a smile as she could muster. The woman was sophisticated, to be sure, in her black pea coat and pencil skirt. A string of pearls hung around her neck and decorated her elaborate, yet professional up-do. Her eyes narrowed and cheeks lifted in an approximation of an expression. You know, like human beings wear sometimes.
"Would you like something to drink? Water? Tea?" Pansy asked, playing the gracious and slightly flustered host. "I'm sorry, I'm not used to guests. Please, come sit. Daphne will be home in a few minutes."
Mrs Greengrass followed her to the couch and sat, somehow managing not to look like she was sinking arse-first in quicksand. "Tea, if you please."
"I only have winterberry right now, is that all right? How do you take it?" She fiddled with the hem of her shirt, trying to seem nervous in a natural way rather than the shoulder-shaking, panic-inducing kind that she was really experiencing.
"Yes, that's fine. I can't say I've ever had winterberry tea. Two sugars." Not a single please or thank you, Pansy noticed.
Pansy bobbed her head eagerly, heading into the kitchen. She'd had the kettle boiling already in anticipation of this moment, so it was just a matter of preparing the berries and letting them steep. It was probably overkill, Pansy decided, but it was better to have too much than too little in a situation like this. She waited by the stove, willing to let Mrs Greengrass have her private thoughts.
Nearly ten minutes later, Pansy deemed the tea strong enough. Pouring a steaming cupful, she added four sugars instead of two in the hopes that it would make the tea more palatable. Getting a glass of ice water for herself and balancing the teacup on a saucer, Pansy made the brief journey back into the living room. "Here, I'm so sorry for the wait," she said, knowing that the time she'd taken was perfectly reasonable if one were to believe she hadn't already boiled the water.
Mrs Greengrass took the saucer and cup graciously, taking a genteel sip. She looked down at the cup and asked, "This is winterberry, you say?"
"Mhmm. I know it's pretty bitter, but it's got such health benefits! My mum always said that the worse it tastes the better it is for you. Not always, I mean, because there are apples and sweet potatoes and things like that, but it's certainly true, er, herbal-y speaking." Pansy took in a deep breath. "Any minute now she'll be home. Do you have any idea what you're going to say? I've been thinking about it for days and I have no idea!"
"As a matter of fact, I do," Mrs Greengrass said, leaning forward so as to give the impression that they were co-conspirators. Pansy leaned in as well, burying her snarl in her water glass. "She's got that baby of hers, my lovely granddaughter, and she's got to know that this drinking problem will only harm Pandeia."
"Good point, good point," said Pansy, her expression back under control. "Are you willing to take care of Pandeia if Daphne doesn't change her ways? I would be happy to if you can't, of course, but I know nothing about children and I would only muck things up, you know?"
The older woman nodded sagely, raising her teacup in between them in an odd sort of toast before taking another, rather large, swallow. It was rude to leave drinks unfinished, and she seemed to be of the opinion that the faster she got it over with the better. "Of course I can take care of her. It won't be easy, with my job and being alone now, but I could hire someone during the day. Heaven knows I have enough money for it."
"What about your other daughter? I know Daphne mentioned her a few times, does she live nearby?"
In a transparent effort to gather her thoughts, Mrs Greengrass took several more mouthfuls of the acrid tea. "Astoria? No, she isn't near enough to be of much help. I believe she's studying in Germany at the moment."
"Oh, free tuition? Is her German very good?"
"Yes, it's excellent. My mother was from Germany, so that sparked Astoria's interest." The teacup was far larger than average, and Mrs Greengrass seemed to be having trouble getting all of the tea down.
"Is the education any better there than here in Britain? Less costly, certainly, but is it worth it?"
One last swallow, and the cup was empty. Pansy kept the smile off her face. It wouldn't do to give up the game now. "It's been several weeks since I last heard from her. Summer classes are demanding, as I understand it."
"A dedicated student, then? You must be very proud." Pansy finished her ice water, swirling a tiny chip of ice around her tongue until it melted.
Mrs Greengrass nodded, setting her cup and saucer down on her lap as there was no table on which to place it.
"I'll take that, if you'd like. Unless you'd like more?" Pansy offered, already rising to take the dishes. They were surrendered immediately with a firm refusal for a refill. She took them into the kitchen and piled them in the sink before returning.
Several minutes were passed in near silence before Mrs Greengrass stood. "It seems my stomach doesn't agree with my plans. Could we arrange another time, please?"
"Of course! Is there anything I can send with you? I get cramps all the time, I can get you some painkillers."
"No, no, that's unnecessary. Some rest will do me good. Will this Wednesday work for you?"
It wouldn't, but that didn't matter. Pansy agreed with a few well-placed looks of concern before showing her the door.
xix.
"Mum's dead," Daphne stated, not appearing to feel one way or the other about it. "I got a call last night."
"Is that so?" Pansy took a bite of her eggs, keeping an eye on the clock. Her secondary job started in forty-five minutes. "Did they say how?"
"Poisoned. Probably by mistake, as they found the plant responsible in her garden. White baneberry, I believe." Daphne coaxed a spoonful of green mush into Pandeia's mouth, who seemed to be about as thrilled by it as she would have been by a stinking compost heap.
Pansy smiled, and it didn't look quite right on her face. More feral than was normally acceptable. "How careless of her."
"Yes, how careless. They're common plants, after all. Who would've thought they could kill?" The scar on Daphne's face was beginning to heal, Pansy noticed.
"No one, I'm sure."
xx.
Fred was unusually reserved in greeting her. "How did it go?" he asked, hesitantly.
"Swimmingly." Pansy pulled the ginger into a hug, an action entirely unheard of from her. Still, Fred's arms went around her to complete the embrace, drawing her closer into his chest as if he could absorb her. "Thank you," she breathed, looking up into his eyes.
"I would do anything for you, sadly." He bent down and brushed his lips against her forehead, his touch lingering even after the warmth was gone.
Pansy hummed. "You're mine now. You know that, right?" She didn't explain what exactly that meant, but the glint in Fred's eyes told her that he understood.
"Let's go outside. Fewer flowers."
A laugh escaped her, and she laced her fingers in his. "I don't think I mind them all that much anymore. I mean, if I'm going to be hanging around you then I might as well get used to them."
"That's true," Fred said, beaming. His eyes crinkled when he grinned so widely. Pansy ran the back of her free hand over his cheek.
She really was beginning to appreciate flowers, bees and dirt and all. They had their uses.