Pansy paced the lounge, anxiously biting her fingernails. It was Friday. Goyle had been gone three hours and, with every passing minute, she grew more and more terrified. She considered packing and getting the hell out of there before Fabrice and Etienne showed up again.
She jumped at the sound of pounding on the door, startled by the sudden noise. Grabbing her wand, she made her way over to the door, peeking out the little spy hole, relief flooding her senses when she recognised the man who stood outside. Pulling the door open, she was nearly knocked sideways as Goyle shoved his way roughly into the flat, slamming the door behind himself.
"What the fuck?" Pansy cried, horrified to see his right hand covered in blood.
"It's not mine" Goyle gruffed, making his way to the bathroom to wash his hand. "Gimme the bleach," he called out to her as he stripped his black shirt and jeans from his body.
Pansy frowned, opening the cupboard under the sink and checking the names written on the various bottles she found under there, rooting around until she finally located the one he required. Confused, she took it to him.
"Here," she thrust the bottle at him. "Care to explain?" she asked nervously.
Goyle was chucking his clothes in the small waste paper basket he had found in the bedroom. He grabbed his wand from where he had left it on the edge of the bath and cast incendio on the items in the bin. Pansy watched shell shocked as Goyle padded over to the sink, unscrewing the cap from the bottle, pouring a little of the cloudy liquid over his hands. The smell was vile and made Pansy's eyes water.
Goyle caught her expression in the mirror, reading her thoughts. "Scourgify is only any good to stop Aurors arresting and charging you. Muggle authorities are able to use DNA to track people," he explained. Pansy didn't look reassured by this information.
"The bleach breaks down the DNA," he explained. He scratched his head trying to think of a way to explain DNA to Pansy. "Where's Granger when you need her?" he huffed, a little shocked to be reminiscing over the insufferable little know it all. Pansy chuckled, "No idea, Ron is still evasive when it comes to the subject of our favourite Mudblood."
Goyles eyes narrowed, "I don't suppose Weasley will take too kindly to hearing you say that."
Pansy shuddered, "I guess not," she admitted. "I don't believe that shit any more, Greg," she paused, thinking over her father's words. "But it's hard to think differently after thinking a certain way for so long. Had my beloved father not disowned me in the way he did, I think I would possibly still feel the way I used to. It's weird, I kind of respect her a little more now," she finished.
.
Taking out a few handfuls of ice from the bag in the freezer, she wrapped them in a tea towel and placed the homemade ice-pack on Goyle's hand. He winced as he felt the cold in his bones, the frigid drip of the slowly melting ice seeping through the towel.
"So are you going to tell me…."
He cut her off. "What happened to Fabrice and his little sidekick, Etienne? No, Pans. It's better if you don't know."
"So what's with all the burning clothes?" she nodded towards the bathroom, referring to the charred remains that lay inside the waste paper basket.
"Muggles. Once they find him, they will gather evidence and want to match that evidence. Best to ensure there isn't any."
Pansy shuddered at his nonchalant explanation as he threw her a sidelong glance.
"It's what I do, Pans. Blaise contacted me for a reason. What? Did you think inviting him up for tea and a chat would work?" He smirked at her naivete, watching as she fingered the wand in her pocket. As if reading her mind, he took her hand in his. "Obliviation spells are traceable; besides I think we have learnt the hard way that to go that route would be a slippery slope," he told her softly.
.
Kissing her softly on the forehead, he promised to stay in touch more. "You should come meet Vivienne. You'd like her" he told her. They had met during the Triwizard tournament and had stayed in touch. After the war, Goyle had come to visit her and hadn't left.
Pansy nodded. "I'd like that, Greg." He kissed both her cheeks, nodded curtly to Ron before turning & jogging down the stairs of the apartment building and out into the Parisian sunshine.
Pansy gently shut the door, coming over to the sofa where Ron sat.
"I didn't realise how much I had missed him," she sighed, pulling her leg up under her.
Ron slipped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into him, gently pressing a kiss atop her head. She closed her eyes and inhaled the familiar scent that was uniquely Ron and for a moment was transported back to seventh year NEWT potions: Fresh mint; sandalwood; licorice. Snuggling into him, she relaxed as he rubbed circles across her back. Her nose pressed against his neck, she nuzzled him gently, feeling him relax back into the sofa. Softly, she grazed her lips over his neck, the little hum of appreciation that fell from his mouth emboldening her. Her left hand had found its way to the other side of his neck, fingertips threading into the hair at the nape of his neck. Feeling his fingers splaying across her own neck, his thumb pressing against her chin, she paused, allowing him to tilt her face up towards his. Gently, he captured her lips with his own, his soft lips caressing hers. She felt his tongue dart out, sliding across her cupid's bow in a deliciously languid fashion, causing her to part her mouth with a sigh. Rewarding her, his tongue massaged her own as she relished the feeling. Her eyes remained lidded as he pulled back gently, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead, he smiled at her, before tugging her back into his side. Beside him, she let out a contented sigh as she marvelled at how well she fitted into him.
.
