Author's Note: Hey there old readers and new! This is a one-shot as well as the first chapter of my new collection of AU!s so every chapter in this will be set in an alternate Universe, most likely set for me by Sophie's Bookshop Challenge or the Insane Historical!AU challenge. So I hope you enjoy this as well as the rest of the chapters :)

Prompts:

Bookshop Challenge: Fairytales Book 6 - Rapunzel. (AU) Rapunzel!AU; (location) Tower; (object) Yellow Flower; (plot theme) Mother/Wife is gravely ill; (dialogue) "Let down your hair."; (word) Silk

QLFC Round 7: Write about S. S. Golden Embers - Ron/Pansy

Hogwarts Assignments: Herbology (Assignment 1) Write about someone bringing a change to a person's cold heart. Extra Prompts: (dialogue) "Why is it always me?"

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise!

Let Down Your Hair

There was a throbbing in the darkness, it was deep-rooted and constant. Ron struggled against it, longing to submerge himself back in the oblivion of sleep, but the pain wouldn't let him. It tugged and tugged, drawing him slowly but surely back into consciousness. His body woke up faster than his mind, and as he began to shake off the grogginess of sleep he became slowly aware that he wasn't in his bed in the castle, but rather in a chair. A chair he couldn't escape.

His body reacted to this news. As his muscles jumped and strained, his eyes flew open at the bite of rough ropes cutting into the soft skin of his wrists. The room was dark, all the windows had been covered, but he could just make out hazy shapes surrounding him, though he had no idea what they were.

Ron let his head drop forward as a familiar feeling stole over him. "Why, why is it always me?" His mother, his poor mother, was always lamenting at his inability to keep out of trouble. She always joked that he would be the death of her. Perhaps he would be.

He groaned as the throbbing in his head picked up speed. He searched the black parts of his memory, trying to pick out the events that had brought him to this place. He remembered being in the forest, searching for that damned flower, and then…singing? A tower? It was too faint and blurred, whatever, or whoever, had hit him on the head had done a good job of putting him out.

A thought occurred, and he squinted around the room. The windows had been mostly covered, and despite the little light that still leaked through, there was no hope of discerning what time of day it was. He had no idea how long he had been out for, hours, maybe even a whole day if he was unlucky. He didn't know how much time his mother had left. Maybe she had gone already.

Ron was distracted from his morbid thoughts by a rustle in the darkness. He snapped his head up, ignoring the stab of pain, and squinted into the shadows but could see nothing. Behind him, the sound of feet padded on the floorboards and there was a quiet whisper, like the trailing of silk. He struggled in his chair but couldn't turn towards the sound.

"Who's there?" he demanded, twisting as far as he could go. The feet padded closer, and Ron couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman who was coming for him. Ron struggled, panicking, but stopped when the flat blade of a knife was pressed against his throat.

The blade wasn't as sharp as it could have been, so this wasn't a practiced mercenary, and the hand that held the blade was decidedly delicate and feminine. He opened his mouth to speak but the blade pressed further into his throat and he cut off.

"Who are you?" she hissed. "Who sent you here?"

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but choked, his eyes flicking down to indicate the knife. She eased up the pressure but didn't move the knife and Ron began. "No one sent me, I swear, well not here at least. I'm looking for something for my mother. She's sick and, well, no one can do anything for her, but there are rumours about a flower, a magical flower. It sounds stupid, but it's the last hope."

"Don't lie to me," she warned, but her grip slackened slightly on the knife. Ron was sure he was saying the right sort of thing. "I haven't seen any magic flower," he chafed against the slight mocking tone in her voice, "and I certainly haven't seen anyone poking around here before, so why did you come to my tower?"

Ron shook his head lightly, "I don't know." Her grip tightened. "What I mean to say, is that I don't remember. Someone hit me rather hard on the head and my memory has gone funny, I think there was singing?"

"Singing," she murmured.

"I just know that I have to find this flower, if it even exists, and save my poor mother."

Ron sensed her hesitation, her momentary distraction, and he pounced. Loathe as he was to hurt a woman, Ron threw the bulk of his weight backwards, rocking the chair violently and ploughing into the young woman behind him. She cried out in surprise and pain, dropping the knife and falling to the floor.

Ron caught the knife in his outstretched hand and manoeuvred the blade into position to cut the rope that bound his hands to the arms of the chair. He was quick and well-practiced at such things from years of war games with his brothers, and with one arm free, it was far easier to free the other and his feet. Very soon he was standing as the girl picked herself up, and this time he was armed.

She was such a tiny thing that he was amazed she had the strength in her to knock him out. So slight a strong wind might send her tumbling, with pale skin and big dark eyes she was really quite striking. Though it wasn't her delicate features that held his attention, rather the mounds and mounds of thick, long hair that hung from her head and criss-crossed the room behind her, fading into the shadows.

She looked up at him, something akin to fear painting her features, but her eyes held nothing but defiance. "Well?" she demanded. "What are you waiting for?" Her hands curled into fists, clutching at the folds of her skirt.

Ron looked at her, and then at the knife in his hand. Her gaze seemed rooted to the weapon and he understood. "Listen, I have no intention of hurting you. I don't know how, or why I ended up in here, but I just want to leave, to go and to help my mother. No one needs to hurt anyone." Her eyes flew to him, quickly searching his face looking like a frightened deer.

"I don't believe you. I attacked you and I tied you up, I hit you in the head with a broom actually-"

"A broom, really? I didn't realise they hurt so much."

"-what do you get out of not tying me up, or even killing me?"

"I'm not in the habit of attacking unarmed young girls. Now, I'm going to put this knife down, and we're going to talk. Can you promise me you aren't going to attack me?" Ron held her heavy gaze until, reluctantly, she nodded. Slowly, he placed the knife on the floor and it clunked onto the wooden panels. He stood up, his hands spread as if placating an animal about to balk. "Now, my name is Ron. What's yours?"

"Pansy," she muttered sullenly.

"Nice to meet you, Pansy. You have, erm, lovely hair." He ignored the look of disbelief that etched her face and continued on. "Surely we can help each other here, Pansy. I want to help my mother, there must be something you want too?"

"Out!" she said without missing a heartbeat. She straightened and her eyes lit at the prospect. For a second he was confused, mistaking her meaning as ordering him to leave. "I want out of this awful prison. Do you know, you're the first real person I've seen other than my mother?"

Ron looked at this girl and considered her in a new light. She was cold and ruthless and tough, but that might just be because she had never known companionship, or love. He had 6 other siblings, it was hard to get a word in edgeways but he had never been alone.

"I can tell you about the flower?" she offered.

"You said you didn't know about any flower," Ron countered suspicion clouding his heart.

"No," she corrected, looking slightly sheepish. "I said I'd never seen the flower, but I think I know the one you're looking for. My mother is always going on about the magic flower when she thinks I'm not listening. She comes back with bright yellow petals and boils them into a tea for herself every few weeks. I don't know what it's for, but it might be just what you need?"

Ron felt the first stirrings of hope in his chest, much as he tried to clamp down on them. He pictured his mother as she was now, wasting away in her bed with barely the energy to breathe. He needed this, they needed this. "So you want out of here, and in return, you'll lead me to this flower?"

Pansy nodded enthusiastically, lighting up inside. She started to fidget as if the excitement were too much and she needed to get moving right now. "Okay, deal. Now, how do we get out of here."

"We climb!" she exclaimed rushing past him, tugging down a blanket strung across the window and throwing the shutters wide. A foggy memory of crawling through those shutters danced across his memory. He looked around for a rope. "No, silly," she giggled, surprising Ron with the carefree almost childish sound, "my hair."

Ron stalked into the darkened shadows and scooped up a great mass of blonde hair. He carried the tangled mess over to Pansy, who was still by the window, and dumped it in her arms as she grinned up at him. "Well then Pansy," he smiled down at her, "let down your hair."

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Much Love, MaryandMerlin x