Pansy awoke in her wingback chair in Harry's room to find the sun breaking through the gaps in the curtains and his bed empty. She sighed, though she wasn't sure why, and kicked her way through the detritus on his floor out into the hallway, and back into her temporary room. She pressed the door closed behind her, glass knob slippery under her fingers.
Pansy rested her head back against the door and exhaled. Another night spent in a chair that could be generously described as vaguely comfortable for sitting, with three nightmares and four massages.
Pansy wasn't entirely sure why she'd taken the job, why she was giving up a month of her life to Harry Potter, who didn't seem to want her help but who obviously needed it, at the behest of Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley.
Well, she thought, as she smirked and pulled the soft grey jersey of her shirt over her head. A hundred thousand galleons is a good enough reason. Not that she really needed the money, with a number of the Parkinson family vaults already in her name. But the money would be the seed fund she needed to start the trauma recovery facility she had been planning for years. The thought nagged: that's not entirely the reason you've agreed to this. Pansy finished undressing, piling her clothes on the bed she'd yet to sleep in, and headed towards her bathroom.
She considered, as she sunk into the near scalding water in the clawfoot tub a few moments later, that it had been Draco, and Draco's anguish after the war, that led her to healing, to her research on trauma. From what Pansy understood, the muggle world was more advanced on mind healing, but not by much. She'd learned what she could and applied it to what she'd discovered by simply being Draco's friend, supporting and comforting him as he fought the demons the war, and having Voldemort live in his house, had left with him.
Helping Draco, fixing him, had been a labor of deep love. He was the closest she'd had to a brother her entire life, but her impetus for helping him felt much different than the ghosts of obligation, of penance, of reparation, of fascination pushing her towards Harry Potter. Towards Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley and memories of a childhood intertwined with darkness she longed to leave behind her. The steam rising from the bath clouded the room and Pansy inspected the drops of water beading on her hands, against glossy nails.
The ends of Pansy's raven hair floated around her pale shoulders in the bath, and as the steam dissipated and the water cooled and her fingers shriveled, she considered another raven head, whose screams and pleas were beginning to brand themselves in hers, like the phoenix that stared out from its perch, frozen on Harry's back.
Pansy apparated from the front steps of Grimmauld Place to retrieve Axel the half-crup from Gregory's farm. Pansy supposed they'd all found their own ways of dealing with the trauma of war. Hers had been helping Draco recover. Gregory's had been largely retreating from wizarding society to cross breed crups with muggle dogs. Pansy had wanted no part of it, until Axel found and followed her during a visit to Gregory's farm. Axel came from a litter whose parents had been a crup and a Welsh Corgi, and his short legs and endearing persistence had quickly won her over.
Axel bounded over to her, partially obscured by the ankle-length grass, when she appeared just outside Gregory's fence, as if he'd known she was coming for him. Greg followed close behind. "Felt you through the wards," he told her. "Good to see you."
"He hasn't been too much trouble, has he?" Pansy asked, leaving over to run her fingers around Axel's standing ears, in the spot she knew he loved.
"Never. He kept the pups in line. The herding instinct is strong in him," Gregory said, turning back where a bizarre looking gaggle of puppies headed towards them. "Muggle Saint Bernards crossed with crups. Wicked size differences in this litter," he told her, as he looked back at the ragtag puppies.
"They are...unique looking. Found homes for any yet?" Pansy asked.
"What, you looking for another?" Greg asked, boot resting on the fence.
"Merlin, no. Axel's plenty, especially with this new patient I've taken on. Speaking of, we should floo back. I've got some other errands to finish before my next session," Pansy said as she threaded her arm through Gregory's, with Axel bounding along aside them. "Sorry I can't stay longer."
They walked through the grassy open space toward Greg's cottage, Pansy's heels sinking into the soft spots of the ground. "No worries, love. I'll see you at Draco's Yule party, if not sooner."
"You're a dear, Gregory Goyle." And he lead Pansy and her half-crup into his stone house to floo back to Grimmauld Place.
That night, Hermione stayed home and Harry didn't argue with Pansy. He didn't say anything to her as she massaged him, either; instead he threaded the fingers of his left hand into Axel's sandy fur after Axel installed himself at Harry's side, nudging Harry with his nose when Harry's fingers drifted too lazily through Axel's tufts.
Axel stayed at Harry's side all night, whimpering to wake Pansy at the first thrash of Harry's body.
"What a good boy you are," Pansy cooed at Axel, who sleepily preened at her praise from his splayed position on his back next to Harry's thigh, once they'd settled Harry back to sleep. "So pretty, and such a smart boy," she told him as she dragged her nails along Axel's long belly.
A sleepy voice came from the head of the bed. "I'm so glad you think so."
Pansy started, quickly pulling her hand back from Axel's belly, but Harry didn't seem to notice as the heavy, even breathing that followed told her he'd drifted back to sleep.
A/N: Happy Saturday! Thank you for reading and reviewing.