A/N: Woo! An update! Cray, I know.

Disclaimer: I do not own this.

Part 9- The Wind Cries Mary

Ron, Santo, and Pansy had watched as the first walls of the restaurant went up a week after the "date" at Axis. It had been a moment that Ron had felt quite proud of. He hadn't cast any of the building spells or anything himself, but he was over-whelmed with the feeling of accomplishment and excitement that he thought would never top being the world's number one protector of the people. Minus Rita… That witch didn't deserve protection.

With the help of Santo, and the farmer's son, they had gone through the plans and construction of the farm a week after the restaurant's construction began, for it was pertinent that Fiore be ready in time for fall planting. It had all required quite a bit more materials than expected, but that had not been a problem financially. The time it was taken had been the issue, and Ron and Fiore had worked around the clock for a week to have it ready.

Ron and Pansy had spent an awkward afternoon looking through the stack of resumes together, sans booze. After she had given him the folder, he'd spent days going through and deciding who he thought were their best choices; of which there were many. Ron knew it was important for him to do this particular task as quickly as possible, and made it a nightly priority to look through the papers, as many as he could, before their meeting. It was important that he do so for Red House. It was important that he do so for Pansy, and she had appreciated that he'd spent the time to give every resume his consideration.

He had appreciated that she took the time to spend time with him.

He was so fucking gone…

Really, he was, but he did what Ron did far too often (some would say best), and he let himself remain ignorant of it all.

The past few weeks of August had done nothing for the feelings he'd been able to suppress; that both he and Pansy had been trying to suppress for each other. The looks were unmistakable; the glances, the stares, the smiles… But, the fact of the matter was, was that the both of them were keeping work at the forefronts of their minds.

Ron knew that he'd been wearing his heart on his sleeve when he and Pansy had been at Axis; he knew he'd been obvious in his change of mood once she'd passed him the folder of resumes… Since then, anything and everything was about business. There were no flirtatious innuendos, there were no touches, there were no more meetings outside of work, but neither could be more obvious about the fact that there were things that were still left unsaid between them. Still, neither acted on anything, and it was another telling sign all on its own. Pansy's work meant a lot to her, and Ron's work had always meant a lot to him, even if the type just recently changed. He'd put years of study, research, and development, and tested theory after theory on his wards because he'd been dedicated in making a difference to their world. Perhaps one could say Ron had gotten married; he'd married his job and they had a child named "The Weasley Warding Method" (WWM).

Pansy had married her job as well, and he knew that game. He knew the moves, and any move made in advance towards Pansy was sure to end in a draw. There could be no winning where all of that was concerned, because work would come first. They'd come too far to fuck it all up now.

But, even with all of this taken into consideration, nothing changed Ron's feelings about her, he just knew that he had to let them die off in time, like most feelings did. The pain of Fred's passing had faded, the pain of Hermione's "passing", and her reappearance, had faded... The feelings he had for Pansy, though they were quite different from the other situations, would fade as well, and they would be able to move on in peace.

-()-()-()-()-()-

It was the last day of August that Ron awoke early morning to prepare for the Grand Opening that night, and he more excited, and more anxious, than he had been in a long time! It seemed a pretty common occurrence, but today took the cake. The chocolate cake!

He spent his entire morning at the restaurant, running over paperwork in his new office. He decided he loved it. Pansy came to great him an hour or so after his arrival, stating that she was going to start getting ready, even if they weren't going to be opening for lunch service that day; instead waiting for dinner service. Their interaction was short, and there wasn't any other until "Family Dinner", after Ron had seen that all tasks were being managed.

Santo and Luka closed down the Red House in Italy for the day, and arrived in time to attend England's first family dinner, which turned into a family luncheon due to timing. Santo had instated the rule in the contract Ron had signed; "All members of the staff must meet at four thirty p.m. for family dinner, where the Chef will cook a meal of his or her choosing, which all will sit down to eat together." Ron found this rule rather touching, thinking of all the times he and his family, and all of their extended family, sat around an elongated table in the yard so that everyone could be close, so he had no problem with this rule at all. In fact, he kind of looked forward to it…

Ron and Pansy had sat next to one another during the meal she'd prepared for all of them; peppered venison loin and smoked sausage with baked pumpkin and cabbage. He hadn't sat so close to her for such an elongated period of time in so long, that he and his body had been definitely aware of her presence; at points their arms, elbows, or even their hands would touch, which they would ignore, and at one point they'd both turned to look at one another at the same time, only for the smiles they wore to fade lightly, and for them to turn to speak to someone else… anyone else.

Once the luncheon was finished, Ron flooed home so as to shower, and change into the new robes he'd had tailored; a dark grey ensemble with a deep red tie. He looked at his appearance in the full-length mirror in his walk-in closet, wondering if he looked good enough to please the eye of a certain witch. He should not have cared- he told himself he didn't- but he couldn't help it. Pansy was still there, in the back of his mind, and behind his every decision, all of the time…

Once he was back at Red House, he stepped from the fire to be entirely pleased by what awaited him. Everything within the restaurant was exactly as it should be; the lanterns and chandeliers had been lit in his absence; the mahogany tables, with white clothes- and matching chairs with red ribbons- had been set immaculately; the small stage was bustling where the musicians were setting up; the display cases had been filled; the vases- both large, and the small ones that were the tables' centerpieces- were full of fresh, red roses. The floor-to-ceiling windows were perfectly clear, and this allowed Ron to see the group of patrons and paparazzi that were already waiting for the doors to open.

Walking to the back of the house, Ron made it in just enough time to listen to Pansy give the nightly pre-service talk, where she explained the menu, as well as reminded the staff of how it important it was they remembered their training, etiquette, and they upheld the one major rule of the kitchen; No magic while preparing food. At the end of it, Ron made his way to his Executive Chef, who had undoubtedly spotted him when he arrived. He was the only red-head, believe it or not, but she had not even looked his way while she spoke; she had been intent on talking to her employees.

As he came to stand near her, Dolly- Pansy's assistant who would soon be her apprentice- looked up at Ron, and Pansy followed her view. The Exec gave her employer a smile and a nod, and Dolly turned to leave them alone, while Pansy said,

"That is one dashing set of robes."

He smiled at her, before saying rather honestly, "I'm glad you like it."

"I do," she answered. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be… Are you?"

Pansy nodded once, and said, "I am, even if I'm nervous." She allowed herself to look vulnerable, even a little scared, and Ron gave her a reassuring smile. He found the fact that she admitted this as a positive sign; perhaps they could make it out of all of this as friends.

"Don't be," he answered. "You're going to do amazing. Your cooking is going to take England by storm… Thank you for that." She smiled up at him, and shook her head a little before mumbling,

"You're welcome," she said, and Ron swore he heard her add, "But I'm not nervous about cooking." In his moment of silence, where he decided whether or not he heard what he had, she asked, "How does it look outside? Are people arriving yet?"

"Uh-" Ron stammered, before he shook his head lightly, and said, "Yeah. I think the paparazzi are already waiting, and it looks like some patrons are as well… Did you say you were, or you weren't, nervous about cooking?"

"You should get out there if the cameras have shown up!" She completely ignored his question. "I have plenty to do in here, so I'm not sure for how long I'll be able to go outside, but I'll do my best. Good luck tonight, Ron. Come find me afterwards and we'll talk numbers." She turned and walked toward the Sous, and Ron called,

"Good luck to you, Pans." The witch turned back to him, smiled, and gave him a final nod, before he left the kitchen, and walked to the front doors.

As he exited the large double doors to step onto the cobbles of Diagon Alley, an hour before they were scheduled to open, loud chatter reached him, and almost instantly the cameras began to flash, and the people came as close as they could to red ropes keeping them all at bay. Because he was so used to it, Ron heard his mum's voice distinctly as she yelled,

"Ron! Over here!" He looked to his left, where his family was standing near a reporter for Witch Weekly; his mother, father, and George waving wildly to get his attention. He grinned to them, and motioned for an Auror- a few having been hired as security for the event- to allow them through the red ropes. He walked up to them, gave his mother and father a hug, and greeted them with,

"I can't bloody believe how many people are here!"

"Language, Ron!" Molly scolded lightly. All the youngsters were staying with Andromeda and Teddy at the Manor for the night, so she only said so out of habit. "And I can surely believe it, son! I knew this would be a sensation! Oh, Merlin's goat, I can't wait to see the inside!"

Before Ron could reply, the sound of a rather loud "crack!" did not go unnoticed by anyone as the crowd turned at once to see that the Malters had arrived; Draco to Hermione's left, Harry to her right, and the three linked together by their arms walked through the crowd and towards the Weasley brood who stood waiting for them. Hermione, of course, looked amazing in a low-cut, deep red gown, and Harry and Draco had dressed rather smart for the occasion, themselves. Draco in a suit wasn't surprising at all, but Harry being in one was.

The reporters went berserk as the Malters came close to the Weasleys, shouting each member of the triad's names, which all came out in a jumbled mess that no one really understood, until all but one went quiet.

"Hermione!" a reporter from The Daily Prophet called, "May we please get a picture of you, Ron, and your husbands?" The man was intelligent, knowing full well that Hermione was the one to ask nicely, and that you bloody better ask her in the first place!

The shouts from the crowd and paparazzi, from then on, were considerably louder as the four moved to stand before the entryway of the restaurant, Hermione having nodded her consent. There had been an uncountable amount of times in the witch's life where she'd been before a camera, and in the past decade she had disintegrated three or four. Usually, the reporter was stalking her outside of her home, or breaking into the hospital to get a picture of whichever Malfoy-Potter child was just born. She would simply give the intruder a look, their camera would turn into a pile of ash (for which she would later pay for by sending a few galleons to the reporter, with a note that basically said "Fuck off and die") and the intruder would turn and run away. The reporter who had broken into the room after she'd had the boys had been the only one to be physically harmed by her, and no one had said a thing; not the doctors or nurses, not the Ministry, not even the photographer, who had to be wheeled from the room on a table due to the six oddly shaped bottles of potions Mrs. Malter had sent up his arsehole.

There were many pictures taken of Ron with the Malters, and a few were taken with Ginny and a newly arrived Neville and Luna; the seven together giving the crowd winning smiles as they huddled close. Then, it was time for Molly and Arthur to have their picture taken with Ron, and they were ushered up to stand on either side of their son. They stood close, grinning happily for the cameras.

"I am so proud of you, Ron," Arthur said, and used his arm around his son's shoulders to pull him into a closer hug.

"Thanks dad," Ron said with a small smile. "I couldn't have done it without the two of you."

"You did this, Ron," Molly said, "You left the Ministry, and you're doing what makes you happy. That's all we wanted you to do, and you did it all yourself." Ron wrapped his arms around his aging mum, and kissed the top of her head, before a man called from the crowd,

"Where's your Executive Chef, Ron?"

"I'll go get her!" Hermione yelled, suddenly and very loudly, before disapparating within the restaurant. A few seconds later, she was back with Pansy in tow, saying, "Here she is! But, oh my! You can't wear that for the picture!" Hermione exclaimed as she kept Pansy from walking up to stand before the entryway. Ron, who moved away from the entryway with his parents, watched while Hermione waved her wand (for the sake of the public) and changed Pansy's chef's coat and pants into a deep red dress that went high at the neck, and fit the curves of her body tightly all the way down to her calves, where it flared out into many layers of fabric. Then Hermione removed Pansy's white chef's hat, and removed the tie from the bun atop her head, before pushing the raven-haired witch to stand before the front doors.

Ron had one hell of a time keeping his mind clean as he watched Pansy smile and pose, the dress Hermione decided to put her in- though it covered almost every inch of her, including the back of her hands- still left very little to the imagination. At one point, she lifted her hand to wave at someone in the crowd, and Ron used his height to look for the recipient of the wave. He saw Santo first, then Luka, and then noticed that Cassius and Rose were standing next to the Quercia men.

When she looked back to the cameras, she did as she'd done while they were in the kitchen; she didn't look at him at all, until he took a subconscious step closer to a cameraman, his movement catching her eye. She looked to him then, and he gave her a half-smile, which she returned. The two stared at one another for an incalculable amount of time; where bulbs flashed bright and broke, people yelled, smiled, and laughed; where the crowd moved, as did the clock, but nothing mattered for just that moment; where they stood, stared, and smiled at one another like they were the only ones standing in Diagon Alley.

"Ron! Can we have a picture of you with Chef Pansy?" one of the Prophet reporters asked, drawing their attention, only for the two to look back to one another with uneasy eyes. The moment they were just having had been personal, and both were unsure, but nodded before Ron moved from his group and towards her, where she wrapped her arm around his waist. Ron had been completely unsure about touching her at first, but decided that he should act casually; as if he did not love the woman he wrapped his arm around.

"This is quite the turn out," Pansy said to him as they rested close together, smiling for the crowd and photographers.

"It's a lot bigger than I'd imagined, that's for sure," Ron said, struggling with looking back into the flashing lights; the thought of staring at Pansy a more welcoming option with every picture, so he turned to her in just enough time for her to look up at him and ask,

"Is that what all of the women say to you?"

This only made the smile on Ron's face brighten as he held back a laugh, and she seemed to be holding one back herself, though he could swear she might have chuckled. They hadn't made many jokes in the past month, but he took it lightly as he replied, "As a matter of fact, it is."

"I wouldn't be surprised," she said in a low voice as she turned back to the camera, though he still heard her. 'Is she trying to make my face red?' Ron thought to himself as he too turned back to the flashing lights.

"Will I be seeing you next week at Hermione's birthday party?" Pansy asked as the cameras continued to flash, and Santo and Luka were pushed into the frame as well; Santo next to Ron, Luka next to Pansy. The youngest Quercia man's arm snaked over Pansy's shoulder, and Ron felt as Pansy moved somehow closer to him, and her grip around his waist tightened. The Weasley man didn't even try to contain his smile as he answered her,

"Of course." He said this as if the answer were obvious, because it should have been. "Not only do we share the same friends, but we're officially co-workers, now. We're going to be seeing a lot of each other... When will we be having a birthday party for you?" He was curious. He'd never known the date of her birth, and he wanted any excuse to make sure she talked to him, and not Luka. Ron was already resisting the urge to swat his hand away from Pansy's shoulder. Glancing up to Luka, he noticed the other man glance at him and frown, before he put on another smile and turned back to the crowd.

"You bought me drinks on my birthday, dafty," Pansy answered easily, her smile still in place. Ron, who was not ready for this answer, let his jaw slacken a little, and his eyes widen, for he was in total shock. He'd been currently thinking of a way to physically assault his business partner's son when she said this, and he hoped the cameras didn't catch his face as he asked her,

"Wha?"

Before she could answer, the four were suddenly ushered out of the way, as the reporters moved Angelina and George to stand before the restaurant; the public needing their dose of every celebrity in attendance. Pansy moved through the crowd towards Hermione, but before she could take two steps, Ron reached out and grabbed her by the hand to assist in turning her around, asking,

"Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday that night at Axis?"

"I didn't tell you because we were really drunk," she pulled her hand from his lightly, which left him feeling oddly hollow, "I didn't want it to alter your- decision making process."

He blinked at her, because he knew of what she was speaking. She'd been testing him that night, and he didn't know if he'd won or lost. Should he have taken her home and given her a birthday shag, or did he do the right thing by leaving before things got… hot?

As she turned away from him, he having no words to respond with, to have Hermione reverse the spell on her dress, he had a feeling that he'd lost. But he knew that already. He knew that he had to lose, because it all needed to fade away. With a great amount of will-power, he turned away from her, and watched as his brother and his wife posed for pictures.

-()-()-()-()-()-

The guests began to dwindle, the desserts had already been taken from the large display, the curtains were drawn, and before Ron knew it the lights outside were out, signaling to the people still on the street that they were closed.

A few groups still lingered in the restaurant, mostly some Ministry officials, and one of Ginny's Puddlemere teammates who'd been accompanied by a very beautiful date. (What? Ron needed options.) The Malters left a couple of hours ago after deciding they should get their kids from Teddy and Andromeda's before the adults fell asleep, and they'd given Ron the message to tell Pansy that she'd done an amazing job. Ron had been happy to oblige their request, because Pansy had done mathematically well… Numbers don't lie, and neither did the happy, satisfied looks on the faces of their patrons.

After they had dealt with the "photo op", Pansy had returned to the kitchen and had not come out. From time to time, especially since he was already making the social rounds from table to table, Ron would hear her yell at some unsuspecting victim, and he would go back to check on everything. He had only seen one man look close to tears at her words. He had been caught looking through the glass window into the dining room, instead of doing his job of quality control. To his credit, though, he had continued working even after she'd yelled,

"What in the hell are you doing looking through that window, McElroy?! Get your nose off of that glass, and back to your station! I made everyone aware of the fact that there would be celebrities here! If you want to star-gaze, you can do it out-fucking-side!"

More than once, though, Ron caught himself standing to watch Pansy a little too long; her skill for watching ten skillets at once- flipping their contents one at a time, by hand, in a matter of seconds- her face drawn into a frown of concentration… one he had to admit that he liked. Ron liked watching Pansy work, and the time he spent peering through the two double doors to the kitchen became longer and longer each time. But now that he was heading through them, the kitchen closed though the stragglers remained, he felt his heart beating quickly- almost erratically- as he went to find the witch.

"Where is Chef Pans?" Ron asked a young witch, named Janet, who had scurried past him in her attempt to leave. The kitchen was nearly cleaned as they awaited the last patrons to depart, a majority of the employees already gone. Janet smiled, and said,

"She's out back. With Chef Luka."

Ron smiled, despite being worried at this news, and said, "Thank you, Janet. We'll see you tomorrow. Good job tonight," before he turned and moved toward the back door. He was afraid to go out there, unsure of what awaited him. The look he and Luka had shared earlier, while Pansy was between them, had been unsettling; however, the two of them having a knife fight in the back alley was far more troublesome at present. Sure, he didn't want the man hitting on Pansy (even if he wasn't going to make a move himself, because that was classic Ron), but he didn't want her to "hit" on Luka with a knife…

Nearing the side door, he stopped to listen, just in case he could hear her screaming at the other chef before exiting. Upon hearing silence, Ron moved out to the empty side yard, before walking out to the backyard veranda. A few groups lingered there, but none of them were Pansy and Luka. Ron considered the thought of them leaving, possibly even together, and turned from the stairway that looked over the back yard… only to watch Luka lean down and give Pansy a chaste kiss on the lips before the two walked back into the kitchen through the side door; smiling as they went.

Suddenly, Ron would have been happier with a knife fight.

The prospect of waiting for his feelings to fade faded itself, and not only did his feelings for Pansy come rearing their heads, but jealousy came with them, and anyone who was anyone- who knew Ron- knew that jealousy and this man always resulted in some catastrophic blow up, break-down, all out shite show. The red-head didn't even think once about using his filter has he yelled, whilst standing far too close to a perplexed old woman,

"What?! Fuck!"

With quick steps, fueled by enraged jealousy, Ron made after the two who had just entered the Red House. He walked through the kitchen, through the dining room, and all the way to the floo in enough time to watch Pansy disappear. Luka, who stood near the fireplace, turned and noticed Ron as he arrived, where he proceeded to step back into the green flames, a newly dawned smirk and the words, "Salita Pastina 84011", on his lips.

A/N: Did you see that coming? I know I did… Formulaic… ( ;-) )

(The Wind Cries Mary)

A broom is drearily sweeping
Up the broken pieces of yesterday's life
Somewhere a queen is weeping
Somewhere a king has no wife
And the wind, it cries Mary