A/N: Hello all. Well, I'm back. And yes, it's another Percy/Pansy fic. This is a follow up to "The Sweetest Revenge". There'll be some references but it's not imperative that you read that one to understand this one. Anyway, let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 1 – Burnt Toast

This wasn't happening to him. He was not rushing home on an emergency portkey. His wife was not lying in St. Mungo's possibly clinging to life. Percy pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezed his eyes shut, and pleaded with the looming migraine storming toward his frontal lobes to recede. These stabbing, crippling headaches were becoming far too familiar and far too frequent for Percy's liking. Suddenly, the conversation every wizard hopes never to have came hurtling to the forefront of his mind.

--

"Mr. Weasley?"

"Yes," he grumbled, regretting his decision to answer the late night floo when he spotted the strange man in the hearth.

When he heard it ring initially, he had hoped that Pansy had decided to be spontaneous and surprise him with a floo call just to chat.

'Yeah right,' he mused grimly. Their conversations as of late centered entirely on their three children and the chaos those heavenly creatures wreaked… piano lessons… art classes… ballet… quidditch… not to mention the integration of their own work schedules into the mad melee. It was never ending and it was a nightmare. Percy couldn't remember the last time he and his wife had a conversation that didn't feel like a strategy meeting. Unfortunately, Pansy seemed to thrive on the mayhem. She reveled in running the roost. To make matters worse, she hadn't let him pursue anything more than a kiss in weeks. The last time he recalled them being intimate, which was several months past, was taunting him like some kind of cruel joke.

Percy was so caught up in his grey ruminations he failed to notice that the talking head in the grate had been rambling for a full minute.

"Mr. Wealsey, are you all right?" the man queried.

"Sorry, what? I was asleep when you called. What seems to be the trouble?" he responded in a low, flat voice.

The man gave him a nervous look and a heavy sick feeling wormed itself into the pit of Percy's stomach.

"Well," the man stuttered anxiously. "I… I just told you about your wife, and her-"

"About my wife? What about my wife?" Percy cut the man off unceremoniously.

The man paused to eye Percy, clearly uncertain as to how to broach the subject at hand. "She's had an accident, sir," he finally managed. "There was an explosion, and she…"

--

At that point, Percy's vision had gone fuzzy. Everything careened out of focus and only flashes of images made it through to his mind's eye. His heart pounding wildly in his chest, the only certainty that coursed through his veins was the frantic desperation to see her… hold her… feel that she was alive and well. Somehow, his luggage was packed, the company and client contacted for rescheduling, and the portkey back to London sorted all in a matter of five minutes. Now that he'd relocated his presence of mind, he recognized he was standing in a cue waiting.

He allowed himself to slide back into the darkness of his worries and self-reprimands. Why had he encouraged her to study for her Apothecary's license? Granted it was over five years ago, but still. It wasn't as if they needed the money. He cursed himself for wanting her to feel fulfilled. At the time, she halfheartedly assured him she'd be content as the Mistress of their home. But no, he had to go and egg her on. He just had to tell her there was more to life than being a homemaker if that's what she really wanted. The look of excitement and adoration on her sweet face at his support had turned any qualms he may have held to mush. He was so stupid. If he'd only considered the possible consequences.

Now… now she lay in a hospital bed in Merlin knew what condition. His children were in all likelihood terrified. Their mother dying and their father… Where was their father?

'Away on business as usual,' Percy prodded himself viciously. All at once, he felt nauseous at the suffocating vice clenching his insides.

He looked up quickly ready to take someone's head off for the slow moving line, and right into the eyes of the desk attendant. How had he made it to the front of the cue? He didn't even remember moving forward. Wordlessly, he handed over his travel documents and prepared to make the leap.

--

Although the trip back took most of the night, Percy found himself skittering quickly down the sterile hallway toward a set of large swinging double doors. He stopped abruptly just before reaching out to push his way through when a paralyzing fear assaulted his tall frame.

What if she was dead? What if he hadn't made it back to her in time? The thought of losing Pansy nearly sent Percy doubling over in agony. He couldn't imagine his life without his "feisty little valkyrie". He shuffled back clumsily and pressed his back against the wall. The tears he'd refused to shed the whole way home stung his eyes, threatening to spill.

Percy buried his face in his hands as his legs gave way beneath him and he crumpled to the floor in a low crouch. He was supposed to be a Gryffindor for Merlin's sake but he couldn't find the courage to walk through those doors.

Suddenly, a voice cut through his torment. "Percy?"

He looked up to find Harry Potter staring down at him.

At the sight of Percy's broken down state, Harry instantly became panic stricken. "She's not… Sweet Merlin, she didn't…"

"I… I haven't been in yet," Percy managed weakly. "I… I just couldn't…"

Harry visibly relaxed yet the worry didn't completely leave his face. "Come on, mate," he offered as he hauled Percy to his feet.

"What are you doing here?" Percy asked, finally becoming fully aware of exactly who was helping him up.

Harry averted his eyes and shifted awkwardly. "Um… Well, Pansy was asking for Draco, so we came down."

"She's awake? Is she all right? What happened?" Percy fired the questions at him as they pushed through the swinging doors into the "Potion Related Mishaps" ward.

Before Harry could answer, Percy was tackled by three mini assailants.

"Daddy… Daddy, where have you been?" "Dada." "What's wrong with mummy?" "Why can't we see her?" His children's questions overlapped and blended.

Percy lifted his youngest into his arms and hugged all three children fiercely to him.

"Daddy doesn't know yet," he murmured softly.

After a few long moments, a soft hand touched his back and began to rub soothing circles between his shoulder blades.

"Hi Mum," he mumbled.

"Children, let your father speak with the healer."

Percy heaved a sigh of relief. His mother's voice had never sounded so good in his life.

Suddenly, she was right in front of him taking his son out of his arms while giving Percy a gentle peck on the cheek.

"Mr. Percy Weasley?"

Percy watched his mother move off down the hall with his children for a moment before turning to answer in the affirmative. He glanced around confused when he found no one but then felt a slight tug on his cloak and looked down to a little wizened witch.

"Yes?"

"Hello, Mr. Weasley. I'm Healer Marshall. I'm your wife's attending."

"How is she?" Percy asked, crossing his arms over his chest and ignoring any attempt at pleasantries.

"Well, it's quite complicated actually."

"What do you mean 'complicated'? In what way?" Percy pushed aggressively as he began to gnaw on the pad of his thumb.

"She received the brunt of quite a powerful potion," the tiny woman replied calmly, unaffected by his attempt to grill her.

"And?" When the small healer failed to respond immediately, Percy scoped about anxiously, impatience wearing plainly on his features. "I heard she's awake. It can't have been that bad."

"Yes, she's awake but…"

"Can I see her?"

"There are a few things you need to know before that can happen, Mr. Weasley."

"Like what?" Percy bit out far more sharply then he'd intended and the small witch bristled at his shortness. He focused his eyes down and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. I've been traveling half the night, and I…"

"You don't need to explain. Mr. Weasley. I understand completely," the old woman offered gently, placing a consoling hand on his arm.

Percy tried another tactic. "What happened to her?" he asked softly.

"Your wife was brewing a very intricate potion when the explosion occurred. She was standing directly in front of the cauldron and…"

"Was she burned? Is she disfigured?" Percy jumped all over her words.

"She only received minor burns, Mr. Weasley. The major damage was to her memory."

"Excuse me?" Percy stammered.

"Her memory, Mr. Weasley."

"What do you mean 'her memory'? How much has she lost?"

The woman drew in a deep breath and let it out in a long stream before answering. "It would seem the last fifteen years."

Percy stood motionless for a full ten seconds, staring blankly at the tiny healer. "What?" he finally whispered hoarsely.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley."

"How… How can you tell? I mean… What… Has she given you any… Fifteen years. Are you sure?"

White, hot panic clawed its way up his chest and sent Percy's mind spinning. He staggered backward and placed a hand to his forehead, the very real ramifications of what he'd just learned weighing down on him. That would mean she'd have no recollection of him… of them… of their children. She'd be her old self. Sweet fucking Merlin.

"Is it permanent?" he reluctantly asked.

"We can't tell at this time."

Without warning, Harry's words came slamming back to him. 'She was asking for Draco.'

"Who's with her now?" Percy panted, trying to control his growing ire.

"What?" the old witch blurted out.

"Who's visiting with her now? Has she seen anyone?" he repeated.

"Yes, she has. Mr. Malfoy. He's been sitting with her for about an hour now."

Percy saw red. Yes, Draco was with Harry and had been for years. Yes, they were all friends now, almost like family, but that did not stop the raging, possessive jealousy from overwhelming Percy.