Chapter Thirty Six

(Weekend at Kingsley's)

Kingsley Shacklebolt wore his long dreads tied neatly with a thick piece of twine at the back of his neck. They draped down the back of his standard black work robes, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Pansy never met him before, not as herself. And she was impressed. He was much taller than she thought he would be, and he smiled so much there were laugh lines all around his dark eyes and dimples surrounding his wide mouth.

It should have hurt him when Kingsley touched her. She was a wolfmate. Not only that, but to the alpha wolf...

Yet she sat mostly naked, at the Minister of Magic's kitchen table trying her best to eat a slice of toast. And not kill the man sitting across from her. Just the sight of Longbottom's face made her stomach turn sour, panic and fear a whirlwind in her mind. But then again, she couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten and from the weepy way her body felt, it might've been awhile.

Too much fighting, not enough calories.

Kingsley sat behind her, redoing the bandage around her bruised and beaten torso, her dirty hospital smock pulled down around her waist, as Neville tended to the silver burns on Posy's hands. Her entire body tensed at the Minister's closeness but she also knew she'd rather him dress her wounds than fucking Longbottom.

He had touched her too, Neville the Betraying Idiot. Skin to skin, multiple times. And neither him nor the Minister showed signs of being in pain as they should. It made her wonder about the nature of her mate bond, which she could very much feel. But certainly felt different than it did before. Maybe because the collar? Or something else...?

She also hated that Posy had been hurt. Her sister, who had grown a foot since the last time they saw each other. She was almost as tall as Pansy. Despite being so young still, her face had no baby fat to be seen. Likely because of her wolf. And something about her profile kept catching Pansy's eye.

Her baby sister looked at the scars and bruises on Pansy's torso with confused eyes.

And that Posy refused to say which one of Idiot's friends thought it would be a smart move to lock her up infuriated Pansy to hyper levels. She couldn't calm her racing heartbeat and it made breathing hard. Every cell in her body screamed that she needed to get as far away from there as possible.

That she needed an ocean or two between her and Vistain.

That she couldn't count on anyone but herself and sitting at Kingsley Shacklebolt's kitchen table? Bad decision. Worse than bad. What was she thinking?!

But her instincts also said one wrong move and Longbottom would take her out. Every time his hands moved she nearly jumped out of her skin, expecting an attack. Expecting him to pin her. Lock her up. Tie her down.

It wouldn't be the first time they'd beaten each other bloody but it would be the first time she knew she wouldn't win. She couldn't. Breathing hurt, as it often did when a rib was broken. Except this time her rib simply wasn't there. Even if it was, every muscle of her torso felt as if she'd been punched with a cinder block.

Neville... his hand was bandaged and his lip was split. But he looked stronger than ever and durable in a way she simply couldn't comprehend. More than human. And ready for a fight at any moment.

Squirming, she looked away and tried to focus on Kingsley's weathered but steady hands. But all she could see was Kingsley reaching out while she was vulnerable and pushing her down.

She switched to her own hands before she couldn't take it anymore. Bent and broken knuckles, chipped fingernails. They trembled with manic energy and her vision blurred before correcting itself. She needed rest in a bad way, her thoughts jumpy and her instincts way off.

"Would you care for a drink, Ms. Parkinson?" Kingsley offered in a deep voice. "To calm the nerves?"

"So you can poison me? You have a beater's bat right there, I'd prefer a bloody death, thank you very much."

A smile revealed his white teeth. "And why would I want you dead?"

"Why do we keep talking about death at all?" Posy wondered out loud with a hefty dose of attitude.

"That's all I'm good for, sister," Pansy's words shivered out of her, her throat nearly closing as she panted for air. "You should be dead. The last few months seem a bit hazy, but I clearly remember stabbing Mr. Minister here. Right in the gut."

And now he sat at her exposed back. Maybe she was the idiot. She shot a look at Longbottom, unable to help herself. Found him staring right at her. Watching for her to make the first move? The tension between them didn't help her already stiff and bruised muscles.

Everything ached fiercely.

"Indeed you did," Kingsley finished wrapping her bandage by securing it tight enough to make her grimace. Then he pulled up his own shirt to reveal a tight, clean bandage around his midsection. "Look at that, we match."

"So do Nev and I," Posy held up her right hand and forced Longbottom's up in the air. His entire hand and wrist was bandaged much in the same way Posy's now was.

"Posy," he chided, finally breaking eye contact with Pansy. "I told you to distract them, not get yourself hurt."

"And I did," Posy shot the Minister a grin. "Expertly."

"I just needed a few minutes to get your—" he paused, shooting Pansy a hard look. "I just needed you to distract them for a few minutes, Posy."

He sounded exactly like a parent chiding his child, but Posy didn't back down. Instead she hopped into Neville's lap and laid her head against his chest. "Will you please stop yelling at me for doing what you told me to do? Let's focus on the important issues at hand here. Like dinner. I'm starving!"

The two men laughed softly and the tiniest spec of delight appeared in Pansy's chest.

"I hear they call you 'Little Wolf'," the Minister said, folding his arms on the table. Angling away from Pansy and allowing her the chance to pull on a large black fleece jacket and pair of sweats he graciously offered before they sat down.

"And I hear they call you the Minister of Magic. Guess that makes you important."

"They do," he nodded. "Probably not for long. But you can call me Kingsley if you'd like."

Posy leaned forward, matching his position, something Pansy taught her. "Well Kingsley, at your breakfast table, right at this very moment, you have the most badass spellthief in the world, the strongest man in the world, and the cutest werewolf in the world."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Longbottom rubbed his tired face.

"So the question is, what is it that we can do for you?" Posy raised one eyebrow and gave a saucy grin.

That spec turned into a tingle. Every time her sister spoke, it eased the tension in her chest by a fraction. Despite everything, she seemed healthy. And happy. And sassy enough Pansy felt sure they were blood related.

"I've heard a thing or two about you Parkinson's," Kingsley continued on, not missing a beat.

"All good things, I know," Posy smiled so brightly it made it easier to breathe. "Hard to live up to the name, but I manage."

Even Kingsley started laughing in earnest. "Well cutest werewolf in the world, I'm under the impression that all three of you are wanted by the Auror Department for a multitude of crimes. Mostly this one though," he nodded his head in Pansy's direction. "She's the troublemaker of the family, huh?"

Posy nodded sympathetically.

"And you showed up at my door," he continued. "So I guess the real question is, what is it I can do for you?"

"I'm so glad you asked," Posy rushed out. "First, I'm starving."

"But more importantly," Longbottom interrupted, prompting her to get to the point.

"There's nothing more important than dinner, Nev! But yes, secondly, we're fugitives who need to get our names cleared and we have a very spectacular skill set you don't want to waste, Kingsley!"

Pansy couldn't help it. The tingle turned into real laughter before it burst from her chest. It ended quickly, especially when she spotted Longbottom giving her a soft look she would rather not see.

Soft didn't look good on his grizzled face.

Kingsley however did not lose his smile and Pansy thought maybe he never did. "You know what I think? Healer Susan told me if your sister had stabbed me anywhere else, I would have died instantly. But where the wound is I had time to get to help before I bled out. Where she stabbed me was so precisely placed, it couldn't have been an accident."

"That's weird…" Posy's eyes went wide and round.

"It's lucky," Pansy argued.

"Sounds intentional," Longbottom leaned forward, giving her a hard stare. A little voice in her brain said much better while the rest of her wanted to smash his head into the wall. But in her current state, she couldn't take both him and Kingsley and manage to get Posy out of the way.

They all waited, watching her and she realized they were waiting for an answer. "Vistain ordered me to cause chaos and take out the Minister," she informed them, breath still uneven. "He never used the word 'kill'. As I said," she peered at the Minister. "Lucky."

Kingsley nodded with a grin, his face full of dimples. "I'd like to help if I can. I highly doubt anyone looking for you will think to come here. Stay the night, eat some dinner, we'll talk in the morning."

oOo

The only problem was Pansy couldn't bring herself to actually enter the guest room Kingsley showed them to after having a quick dinner delivered. Posy ate all hers and then the rest of Pansy's, her stomach far too empty to take on so much food. Of course, Posy ate like a starved wolf. Then her baby sister took her hand and held it all night as she attempted to sip from her wonton soup. It tasted of cardboard and curdled in her stomach.

But even she couldn't deny she needed the food.

The longer she spent in the presence of Posy the more she felt herself relaxing. A similar feeling to the way Tory used to make her feel. It wasn't that she felt safe, because Pansy was damn sure that would never happen again. But Posy could bring Pansy back from the edge with a silly joke and a big smile and all her little sister had done since dinner was smile.

She might have even fallen asleep except the guest bedroom was tucked into the far corner of Kingsley's basement and had no windows and only one door. One way in, one way out. Just like that her mania returned and made every single muscle in her body tense with immense pain.

"I can't," she shook her head, tugging on Posy's hand and putting her back against the opposite hallway wall. It wasn't a large basement and the hallway suddenly felt far more cramped than before. "I won't."

"What's wrong?" Idiot asked from behind them. He didn't wait for a response, just flicked the light on and peered inside the tiny bedroom. A single bed lay in the corner with a simple bedside table and a small lamp.

Immediately he spotted her problem. "It's okay," he said quietly. "I'll stay by the door."

"Because you're so trustworthy," she snapped, unable to shake off her tremors.

"He is," Posy insisted. "C'mon sister, why are you so angry with him? He saved you."

But the words had the opposite effect of their intent. In a snap all her anger and mistrust came back with a vengeance. He saved her? Was she so bloody broken she needed a man to come along and rescue her? He should have let her die—as she suddenly remembered it. Under the trees, stars overhead, and Longbottom's voice in her ear. She died as herself, away from Vistain and no longer under the effects of the collar. And he had to go and ruin it, didn't he?

She met his eyes and felt her lip trembling, in anger or otherwise. It didn't matter. She never hated him more.

"Posy inside," he ordered.

"What? Why? Are you two gonna fight?"

"Yeah," he said, resigned. Neither had taken a shower yet, and it made him feel even more tired and ragged.

Posy held on to Pansy's hand tightly, looking between them for a full minute as if she couldn't decide what to do. Pansy waited, her stomach all twisted up, because she couldn't decide either. She didn't want to fight. If she went the rest of her life without another altercation, it would be too soon.

She never felt so tired before. Not just physically. Soul deep exhaustion hit her the moment dinner ended and she didn't see how it would ever subside. Maybe Kingsley lived with a Dementor. Maybe Vistain succeeded in destroying her soul. But she certainly wouldn't stand for being 'saved' by Longbottom of all people.

Fight it was then.

Except… "No." Posy's bright eyes met hers without flinching.

"What do you mean 'no'?"

"I mean no. N-O." Posy grabbed both of Pansy's hands, squeezing them. "If you wanna be mad at anyone, be mad at me. Neville was fulfilling the promise I made him make. I get the feeling a lot more time passed by than it seems, but it was only this morning that Nev told me I would never see you again. Mama, Papa, Theo, Tory… they're all dead. But you're not, because of him and he did that for me."

She should have followed along, but … "Pearl is dead?"

Posy's mouth dropped and Longbottom shifted forward, his stance purely battle ready. No. No, he was reaching forward to catch her if she fell.

Wait. No. He was reaching out to literally catch her. His arms came around her waist and banded tightly, keeping her up as her knees gave out. Her heartbeat pounding loud enough it was all she could hear.

Panting, her mouth going dry and head spinning dangerously, she clawed at his shirt attempting to find her balance. "I thought-once the collar was off-my head would clear-" But it hadn't. Not fully. The worst part was she couldn't remember it. She couldn't remember Pearl's last moments.

"You need rest, damn it," he swore, lifting her up easily and bringing her into the room. His arms shouldn't have felt as safe as they did.

"Can't. Can't trust you," she shook her head stubbornly even though her body seemed to do the opposite of what her mouth said. She curled into Longbottom as if she'd done it a million times. "I don't know what you did."

"That's right," he snapped loudly, situating her on the bed. Posy followed closely after shutting the door. "You don't know."

His words cut through the haze.

"You don't know," he repeated, getting on his knees beside her, his fingers pushing the hair out of her face as he leaned over the bed. "So you just assume the worst of me. All the other men in the world fucked you over so why not me too? But I didn't. I wouldn't... I won't."

Teeth chattering, Pansy clutched at his wrists. Her fingers found the steady beat of his pulse and she tried to match it.

"Look at me. Go. To. Sleep." He bit out each word sharply, turning her head towards his, uncaring about the chipped nails digging through his skin. "When you wake up, I promise I will tell you every last detail about what happened in the shards, none of which involved me harming you."

"Did I do it?" she asked, her entire body shivering, pulling at him. But he wasn't pinning her down. He wasn't locking her up or tying her down.

Wincing, he looked up at Posy and hoped it wouldn't hurt her to hear his answer. "It was me. All me. I killed Pearl. Okay? She can't hurt you and Vistain can't hurt her."

"How did you know?" she mumbled. "How do you always know?"

Because he knew everything about her. "Go to sleep," he repeated, softening his hold on her face. His thumbs rubbing across her cheeks, pulse beginning to match the rhythm of his.

Posy continued to pet Pansy's forehead. "Yes, sweet sister. Go to sleep. Nev isn't going to let anyone through that door. Not with us here. He loves us."

Posy's declaration hit Neville right in the chest. Her smile lit up the room, the only happy thing in his whole damn life.

She said, "Nev, sing to her."

Sing? Fuck. Two pairs of indigo colored eyes watched him closely, one on the edge of panic, which was beyond dangerous, and the other full of hope. Almost just as dangerous. What the hell was he supposed to…

Right. Nodding, he pulled up the blanket and tucked them both in. Shushing softly as he did and grasping for a silver lining—any silver lining for this god-awful situation. It seemed the more time that passed since his time in Pansy's mind, the clearer reality became. The more he remembered from before.

That Pansy was in deep, deep trouble. From his people, the wolves, and Seraphina. Her physical body was in danger of giving out on itself and her mind had been ravaged by the collar. Was there anything he could do? Would sleep even help at all?

But he also remembered every second he spent with Pansy in her mind despite it going by in the blink of an eye. Despite the fact they were somehow gone for decades, because once they started kissing they hadn't been able to stop. And it all seemed clear as day. As if it only just happened.

So he opened his mouth and sang, never mind the fact he wasn't any good, and the sad song Tarrant Parkinson used to sing to his girls came from his damaged throat. Until indigo eyes closed in sleep and Neville realized what the silver lining was.

He had his family back.

oOo

Pansy slept. No dreams, but no pain. Neville worried she wouldn't wake up again, then he worried Kingsley would change his mind and kick them out. But then he settled on worrying for the man's heart, because Kingsley was so obviously enamored with Posy. He recognized that look of delighted surprise on the Minister's face. Like he couldn't quite believe the things that came out of Posy's mouth.

Neville understood the feeling all too well.

After only a day staying at Kingsley's home, all of Posy's favorite fruits and snacks seemed to show up in the kitchen as well as a giant stack of gingersnap cookies. As well as a giant bouquet of blue Forget-Me-Nots.

Neville shaved his face and ignored the gray in his hair, except for the moments Posy playfully tugged at the strands and snickered like it was some big joke. She would call him 'old man' and he would call her a headache. Then wink. He couldn't help it. Kingsley wasn't the only sucker.

While Pansy slept, wolf violence popped up all over the country as more and more Muggles were reported missing. And wizards had no way to cover it up. But Neville suspected that was the root of the problem and he had no qualms about telling Kingsley so.

Instead of helping, wizardkind was more focused on saving their own asses.

But according to Kingsley, nothing so far had happened to indicate Vistain was after his mate and Neville hoped the damn wolf was dead. Pansy got him in the eye, a would which could be survived, under the right circumstances...

On the third day, Neville decided if Pansy didn't wake up by nightfall, he would attempt to do so himself. They couldn't stay much longer and he wanted to get ahead of their issues, not run from them.

While Posy ran Kingsley in circles, a long history lesson on wizard versus wolf wars and... making muffins?—Nev watched the basement door as promised. Memorizing the nicks in the wooden knob and willing it to turn. Wondering how to get back in his own home without all his friends being pissed off with him. How to clear Pansy's name for good so Posy could have her sister.

How to guard the house from Seraphina and what the hell was she anyways?

Getting lost in the memories of the Mind Shard. Could he and Pansy ever be together again? Or would she never trust him...

And-

The door opened. His breath caught.

She looked like shit. Sunken eyes and bruises up and down her body. Her hair greased back but the color didn't bother him. He'd had plenty of time to grow used to it in the Mind Shards. Pure silver that made her hostile eyes seem even sharper. Bruises all along her jaw were starting to turn a sickly yellow. Her lips were thinned in anger. At him. So fucking angry.

"Where's my sister?" she croaked out.

"Upstairs, wooing the Minister," he said from the floor. He could smell her, that's how badly she needed a shower. "Hope it helps."

"Unlikely," she crossed her arms and glared at him. "How long was I out?"

"Few days, feel better?" He tossed her a bottle of water and watched her chug it.

"I don't appreciate your tone," she said, wiping her lips.

"I don't appreciate your smell."

"I'm not any less pissed off at you, if that's what you want to know."

"Big shocker. You. Pissed off."

The stairwell door opened, and a single muffin flew through the air. It came to a crumbling stop right between them. "Will you two please kiss and make up?" Posy shouted from upstairs. "I thought you were in love? What the eff?!"

Kingsley's laughter drifted down the stairs after Posy's tirade, but Pansy only stepped over the muffin and frowned down at him. "Where did you learn that song? The one you sang to us?"

His eyes narrowed. "From you. Where else?"

"You mean you took it from my mind."

He grinned, though he had to crank his jaw to do so. She was bound and determined to make him into the bad guy. Boy was she in for a fucking surprise. "You sang it to me first."

Oh, the look on her face. It was almost worth the abuse. Almost. That surprise outweighed her anger, and she went totally still. Absorbing what he said, trying to discern if he were lying. The fleece jacket she wore belonged to Kingsley, who was several times larger than herself, and the sleeves were too big. It dropped to the side and revealed the bite on her shoulder. Her mate mark.

With a sneer, she crossed her arms, deciding he was lying. "Not possible. I don't sing to anyone."

He spotted the tension in her shoulders and neck, and wondered if she experienced the same never-ending aches as he did? After all, they both took the same potion that made them stronger than the average human. His eyes traveled down her shoulder line to the bite mark. Every scar he'd seen on a wolf mate had been a neat outline of teeth—but not Pansy's. Vistain had ravaged her shoulder until it looked like mulch.

She continued, breaking him away from his thoughts. "So you made me."

"Nope," he crossed his own arms, but stayed on the floor, looking up at her. It definitely gave her the advantage, but they needed to work out their issues and he had the feeling she needed to feel in control. "I didn't make you do anything, kitten."

"Don't," she warned in a low voice. "Don't call me that. You and I are not friends."

Anyone else would have run for the hills at her tone, but Neville only smiled.

"No, we are not," he said slowly, trying to remain casual. But the last time they had this conversation they ended up having the best sex of his life. He tried not to let that show on his face

Eyes losing focus slightly, she faltered as if she were about to lose her balance before she caught herself. Maybe she realized it too. "Shower?"

Rising up on his feet, he gestured down the hall. Kingsley stocked the small basement bathroom with hard soap and fresh towels the first night of their stay, and he made sure to save one for Pansy. Posy always managed to use somewhere around nine towels per shower.

She walked in and turned, hand clutching the edge of the door like she might fall over at any second. The look she gave him could cut glass, but it was a look he was intimately familiar with. He met her gaze and waited. Finally she opened the door all the way. "Come in, you can tell me what I missed while I bathe."

Quietly, Neville stepped in after her, not able to pass up such an opportunity. He shut the door as softly as could and leaned against it, ever her guard. She hadn't exactly been modest before, but now she stripped without any fanfare, peeling off her borrowed clothes and gasping at the aches and pains she felt as she stretched.

When she pulled down her sweats, he caught sight of a black ink tattoo on her lower back. He forced himself to look away, she hadn't invited him to watch, but he couldn't help himself. It was a damn wolf paw. That hadn't been there in the Shards.

"You can start by telling me exactly what happened to my rib," she said, turning on the shower faucet and stepping in without waiting for the water to heat.

"Torn out."

"You?"

"Vistain."

"Good."

"You took it back from him."

"What, my rib?"

"Yep. Used it to stab him in the eye."

Pansy let the cold water run over her skin, watching it pebble from the low temperature. It felt amazing. She hadn't had a cold bath or shower in a year, Vistain learned early the cold temps kept her power up. To an extent. "Good," she braced her hands against the white tile and just let the water flow over her. She slept for days and yet still felt exhausted. "Did he die?"

"Not sure. It was a hell of a fight," he started slowly. "Always is with you."

"Trying to butter me up?"

"Trying to remind myself."

She turned to look at him through the clear shower curtain, caught him smirking at her. "You wanna come in here with me?"

"Yes," he told her honestly.

"Too bad. Maybe if you hadn't shaved, I would let you in."

"How will you stop me?" he asked, peeling off his t-shirt. "You can barely stand."

"I don't need to be standing to take you out," she reminded him. Their eyes met again and she watched him push down his jeans and kick off his boots with unhurried movements. Getting naked. He pushed aside the shower curtain and stepped into the shower behind her and…

"Ahh! It's freezing" he shouted.

She smiled and leaned against the wall, crossing her arms and laying her forehead against the skin as he turned the faucet for hot water. The position reminded him of that morning in her bedroom, so many months ago, pressing her into that mirror, forcing her to watch what he did to her.

But her expression now looked far less sexual, her thoughts on her time in captivity. She looked almost subdued. "Look," she softly spoke to him, turning her head to look at him over her bare shoulder as the water warmed up and slid down over her body. "I know that's what you really want."

So he did, giving the tattoo on her lower back a closer look. The black lines made a wolf's paw print, the claws curved sharp and deadly. The shading expertly done and detailed. He understood what it meant. Vistain wanted her branded. He wanted her to have a reminder of who she belonged to, for the rest of her life.

The wolf was dead.

"When did he do this?"

"The night after we slept together for the first time," she croaked out. "It wasn't enough that I wore his collar and fought his fights for him. But a tattoo is… I didn't want him to turn me into a wolf."

"That's why you went after the potions?" he asked, piecing it together.

"You could've warned me what it actually took to become like you, Longbottom."

"I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to go after them, Parkinson," he said picking up a piece of lightly green colored soap. He lathered it up in his hands and began scrubbing her back, causing her to moan in relief. Her muscles melted under his tough touch and the hard soap.

"I'm trying to be angry at you."

"Yeah, I noticed," he said, digging his fingers into the hard muscles of her back, trying to work out the tension and avoiding the major gash where her rib had been removed. He tried to be gentle, what with her bruises and cuts. But she demanded more the moment he lightened up.

"I just spent most of the last year with Vistain but it feels like I've been with you for…"

"Decades?" he completed for her. Then, while he massaged the stress from her battered body and the water rained down over them, he told her everything. Every moment they spent together in the Shards starting from their campfire poker games to every place he chased her. Following her to Hogwarts and about how she saved his life. Listening to her sing and the kiss they shared. The one that turned into so much more. "I didn't make you, Pansy. Not like him."

The wolf that branded her and held her captive. That took her from him. He should have killed Vistain when he had the chance—

"Neville."

The sound of his name broke him away from his dark thoughts but he still couldn't look away from the tattoo, his finger dipping down the hard plane of her back to trace the black lines. "I'm sorry," he told her, mimicking her soft tone.

And he was. He wished he could go back and change everything, let her do what she originally planned. All this time he'd been sprouting off how good they were together, how much better they worked when they did it together. He should have listened to himself.

He should have gone with her to kill Pearl. Pansy wouldn't have spent months as a gladiator in a fighting pit, being controlled by a faery collar, manipulated by Vistain. Branded like cattle.

"I chose the design," she informed him, closing her eyes under his touches. "Vistain would mostly see it from where you're standing, looking down at it from above."

Neville withdrew his hand and his fingers, soapy and wet, curled in anger. She meant… as Vistain fucked her from behind. He didn't know what to do, the rage he felt wasn't like anything he'd ever known before, but he couldn't tell her to stop.

Not now, when they were finally having a real conversation.

"Go on," she whispered. "Step back and look at it level."

"Why?" he asked.

"Trust me," she mocked, sounding like him. "Just this once."

He did as she instructed, taking a step back and kneeling slightly, looking at the tattoo dead on. And saw…

"Is it magic?"

"No," the softness in her voice was starting to kill him. "A simple illusion, using lines and shading. He thought the paw print was for him, he thought I belonged to him. I helped him believe that, I'm as much to blame for my captivity as he is, and I have to believe that Longbottom. Otherwise, I'm just a victim. And I can't be a victim again. You understand me?"

He understood. She did what she had to do to get out of a bad situation. He stepped forward and placed a hand against the tattoo. Maybe his heart wasn't as broken as he thought. "I don't deserve it."

"Don't be fucking modest, Longbottom," she snapped, sounding much more like herself. "You're the only man I can stand being marked by, enjoy it."

He knelt down on his knee, so he could come eye level with the tattoo, studying the lines even closer. Wiping soap and water from the clean tattoo. From this angle the paw print was still obvious, but the shading and the lines tricked the eye from above. The real design wasn't a wolf paw at all. It was a shield. A stylized design of his Auror Badge.

Most Aurors picked a more magical design for their badges. Harry and Bobbi had done wands. Neville decided on a shield, because that's the kind of Auror he wanted to be. The design Pansy picked was an exact replica of the shield carved into the gold of his badge and apparently, strange enough Vistain didn't immediately recognize it. "Of course, this was before you decided to use the shards on me."

And just like that, she was back to being furious, her entire body trembling.

"What do you want from me? An apology?" he asked, standing up.

"Fuck that. I want an explanation," she demanded, turning to face him.

He pushed her into the wall, mostly to keep her stable. "You were dead. Everyone said so. She offered me a way to change that."

"So you just took that chance? No questions asked?"

"Damn straight I did."

She pushed back at him. "Selfish bastard."

"You think I did it for me? Damn it, woman. I did it for you. For Posy!"

"You did it to get your dick wet!" she accused with heat, but she sounded hurt.

Neville stepped back, his jaw hurting he clenched it so hard. "You know what, Pansy, you're right. I took your sister in and raised her like my own, spent months worth of time and money searching for you, having daily meetings with Malfoy, went off to fight fucking Vistain with you, killed countless wolves and your own damn mother for you, brought you back to Mungo's in a stolen VW bus that had a bloody narwharl painted on it, got my ass handed to me by Seraphina, only to spend decades in those fucking shards trying to convince you to wake up … just so I could get my dick wet. Damn it didn't work!"

He was panting by the end of his rant. "You figured me out," he told her. Then pulled aside the curtain and left the shower, grabbing a towel to dry off as he left.

oOo

Pansy flopped down next to Posy at the dinner table, experiencing deja vu. The four of them, around the the table, while she felt unsure and afraid. This time she wasn't going to be complacent. Kingsley and Neville sat on the other side, the latter glaring at her through dark eyes. Well fuck him too. Kingsley smiled sweetly, giving Posy a quick wink. He pushed what looked like a bowl of plain rice towards Pansy.

She needed the calories, but her stomach cramped uncomfortably just thinking about eating. Even something as bland as brown rice. Instead she sipped from her water bottle and glared back at Neville. Two could play at that game.

"Did you get any rest, Ms. Parkinson?" Kingsley asked nicely.

"Cut the crap, Minister," she turned her glare on him instead. "In case you haven't figured it out already, I'm highly unstable and pissed the fuck off. You got something you want from me? Spill it, otherwise I got a plane to catch."

"Pansy!" Posy shouted in horror.

"Be quiet, sister," Pansy warned. "Kingsley isn't without intelligence, it would be an idiotic move on his part to let anyone like me and Neville into his home. Unless he wanted something."

She pushed the rice away. "No one becomes Minister of Magic without being a sneaky, self serving asshole."

Neville looked ready to fight but Kingsley held a hand up to stop him. "Before we talk about what it is I want, I took the liberty of inviting my niece to come check your wounds."

"Your niece?" Neville and Pansy asked, then glared at each other.

The tension in the room revved up, both their fists curling in anger.

"Don't start that copying shit again, Longbottom."

"Then keep your mouth shut, Parkinson."

Kingsley stood up, drawing attention to himself. He pushed the rice back towards her, purposely breaking line of sight between her and Neville. "Please, indulge this old, self-serving asshole for a few more minutes, Ms. Parkinson."

Taking the bowl, Pansy angrily chewed on rice while Posy and Neville both glared at her. Kingsley only smiled and left the room. As soon as the door shut them in privacy, Posy turned in her chair towards her and opened her mouth wide.

"Are you really going to leave again?" she half shouted, sounding betrayed.

"Not without you," Pansy swallowed her rice before setting the bowl aside.

"What about Neville?"

"What about him? If you're worried he won't let you go, don't be." She turned and glared right at him. "If I have to take you from him, I will."

The corner where Neville braced against the table cracked under his steely grip, splinters flying to the ground. "Try it," he warned through clenched teeth.

Dark brown met bright indigo and Pansy smiled, full of teeth and ready to bite. She wasn't 100%, but after her sleep and after her second shower, which was much, much colder than the first, she was definitely up for a fight if necessary.

"I might do just that," she told him slowly, without blinking.

"Is this a joke?" Posy groaned, slapping her forehead. "I do not understand adults."

But not even Posy's attitude could break the tension. They moved at the same time, both standing up quick enough that their chairs flew back, Neville pushing the table out of the way in such a way it couldn't possibly harm Posy as Pansy darted forward, moments from summoning her blade—

"Thank GOD. THANK GOD!"

Susan Bones… the healer? She rushed into the room, practically jumping into Neville's arms. She kissed his cheek aggressively, patting his face as if she couldn't believe her eyes. "THANK GOD!" she shouted yet again before rushing after Posy, pulling her into a tight hug.

"I was worried sick about you!" Susan pulled back, checking over Posy. "Are you hurt?"

"Me? No, but you should check their heads. There's clearly something wrong with them both."

"Aw," Susan patted Posy's cheeks affectionately before turning to Pansy. "I was terribly worried about you all. Bobbi has everyone out looking for you. Have you been here the entire time?"

"Sorry I didn't tell you sooner," Kingsley said from the doorway. As always he smiled.

"Wait a minute," Neville shook his head. "Your 'niece', sir?"

"That's right," the Minister beamed.

"It's an honorary title," Susan told them, still holding onto Posy tightly. "Before my Aunt Amelia passed away, she was engaged to be married to this old rascal."

"Ohh, you wound me, Saccharine Susie," Kingsley pretended to hold his heart. "Could you do that thing you happen to be so wonderful at and have a look at Ms. Parkinson's wounds for me?"

"I wouldn't," Posy coughed not so inconspicuously, looking at her feet. "They are not happy with each other right now."

She pointed to the table, currently laying in pieces in the corner.

"Ahem, I'll replace that, sir," Neville offered, finally looking away from Pansy.

"You two just got each other back, but you're fighting already?" the healer asked, but she looked right at Pansy. "Ahh, how about in private then? Follow me."

Pansy bit her lip, getting sick of people telling her what to do. But her head was beginning to spin again, her breath not coming as easily. Giving Longbottom a hostile look, she followed the healer from the kitchen and down a long hallway.

Into a dainty bedroom that clearly belonged to a teenage girl at one point. Lots of lace, pink, and yellow. "Have a seat," Susan said, shutting the door. "This was my bedroom after 6th year."

"I don't care." Pansy sat on the bed and removed her fleece. "I don't care if Posy likes you either. Hurt me and I'll defend myself."

Susan lifted a hand. "Try to relax, I'm not here to hurt you. Kingsie said your wound reopened. I brought my kit."

"Don't ask me any questions," Pansy warned. "You can't be unbiased."

"On the contrary, I'm perfectly capable of discretion," she seemed perky. Pansy hated perky. She sighed and leaned over, giving Susan her side. But didn't believe for a second this visit would be private.

She was Longbottom's friend and related to that blonde bitch. Her loyalty couldn't be anywhere else and Pansy wondered if she would ever be surrounded by anything but enemies again.

Susan leaned in and inspected the wide wound in Pansy's torso, pulling on a pair of latex gloves.

"I thought you were a healer?" Pansy asked, surprised.

"They've started calling me Doctor Healer since I got my med degree," Susan mumbled, her focus solely on Pansy's wound. "Your stitches are coming out, I'll have to redo them."

"Fine," Pansy paused as Susan worked quickly. "How stocked is your kit?"

"What else do you need?"

"Some of that discretion and…" she shut her eyes, and huffed. She could get it another way. "Nevermind."

"A pregnancy test?"

Pansy looked over, again surprised. Susan reached into her kit, digging around before bringing out a small vial, full of a thick, teal colored liquid. "As a matter of fact, my last potion. The result will be instant. Have you used one before? It will cause you to burp, white means no fetus, blue means fem-"

"Girl, green means boy," Pansy took the vial and downed it in one go. The potion tasted just as she remembered it, the same as the one she took right after getting away from Jac. Sort of like a minty sock. It fizzed down her throat right to her stomach where she immediately felt the urge to burp. A giant bubble popped out of her mouth.

White.

It floated in the air for several seconds before popping loudly. Pansy felt relieved. She'd begun to worry her nausea and dizziness was due to a very unwanted pregnancy and the thought of carrying Vistain's child made her want to scream.

"Whatever Nev did, I'm so happy to see it worked," Susan spoke as she worked. "Giving bad news is never fun, but telling him there was no way for me to revive you… it might've been the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Care to share the secret?"

Pansy blinked. She didn't know about Neville's use of the shards. They had woken up alone in her house… which meant Neville had taken her away from St. Mungo's before venturing into the shards and into her mind.

"Only the good die young," Pansy told her, then realized she had her own questions. "Why are you helping me? I nearly killed your uncle."

"Your actions weren't your own," Susan answered simply. "And I am very good at compartmentalizing. Kingsie is alive, you're alive. These are good things."

"Is it?"

Susan finished her neat stitches and reached for clean gauze and bandages. "How does it feel?" she asked, ignoring Pansy's pessimism.

"Fine."

"You should know when I found the piece of your collar and realized what it was, I looked up as much as I could on the subject," Susan secured the bandage and pulled out a stethoscope from underneath her jacket. She placed the cool metal against Pansy's chest. "Deep breath."

"What's the diagnosis, doc?" Pansy sighed. Maybe she wasn't surrounded by enemies.

"Under normal circumstances? I'd suggest a good night's sleep and a hearty meal. But you? Make it a month. Rest, sleep, heal. Even with your altered DNA, you're still technically human."

"Altered DNA? The strength potion?"

"Yes, did you know your heart beats slower than the average human's?"

Pansy remembered when she died. The heartbeat in her ear. "So does Neville's."

"And of course," Susan stood up. "The point is that it beats. Good things."

"You're annoyingly perky," Pansy also stood up. "I don't like it so don't ever talk to me again."

Susan got up and went to the door and smiled, a pleasant sweet thing Pansy didn't trust one bit. "Um. No, but nice try. I love Posy. And I love Neville. Both of them love you, so I believe we're going to be very good friends."

She turned, paused, and looked back with an even bigger smile. "Also, I'm sleeping with Draco."

Then she walked away. Leaving Pansy to wonder about exactly what she missed while she was with Vistain. Apparently a lot. She checked the bandage around her torso and found it secure. 'Both of them love you'.

"Oh fuck it," she pulled the gray fleece jacket over her head and went back to face the music. Head up, she marched down the hall, into the kitchen, and sat down right next to Neville and across from Kingsley. Who was offering what looked like a box of cookies to Posy.

She needed to take control of her own situation, otherwise she would just flounder herself into more danger. Like right back into Vistain's control. But Neville… he was different than she remembered. Tougher and more focused, which shouldn't be possible but it was. And she wasn't sure, even if she was at full strength, that she could take him now.

Which she would have to do if she wanted to take Posy and run.

And Posy didn't seem to want that.

She decided to ask.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier, sister."

Posy shrugged, munching on a cookie. "You did sound a little bit like Mother."

"... That is the meanest thing you or anyone else has ever said to me," Pansy said, looking at Posy. They had a proper stare down before both their lips turned up in a smile. And she felt the tension slide away from her muscles. A gentle sereneness Pansy hadn't experienced since before Tory passed away. "I would like to leave, and I would like you to come with me."

Posy set her box down. "I would like to be with you," she said slowly. "Here. With Neville."

"Fine," Pansy grit her teeth. She turned to Kingsley. "I can provide some information in return for a lightened sentence for the crimes I committed while under the influence of the collar. Vistain, his family, his habits…"

"Info would be good," Kingsley nodded.

"But there's something else you want?" Pansy guessed.

"Yes, there is something quite specific I want. For years, magic has slowly and inexplicably faded away from this world. And all together disappeared when you," he nodded to Pansy. "Blew up a rather large batch of Glimmer… made with her blood."

He nodded to Posy.

"I believe only the two of you can bring magic back," Kingsley completed.

"But how could we?" Posy asked.

"Why the fuck would we?" Pansy snapped.

"How about a full Pardon?" Kingsley held his hands as an offer. "For all your past crimes, I'll wipe the slate completely clean. You can go home, wherever that home may be."

Pansy didn't know where to start. But apparently Neville did. "With respect sir, don't go draggin' my kid into this. What happened to magic is not in any way Posy's fault. And that Glimmer wasn't only made with her blood. There were several wolf children Pearl Parkinson used to make that batch."

His kid? Kingsley seemed as surprised as Pansy felt. "I'm… certainly not implying that it is, Mr. Longbottom."

"Um, isn't anyone else stuck on the how?" Posy leaned forward, placing her hands on the table. "As in how are we supposed to fix magic?"

"I have an idea," Susan piped up.

"Your kid?" Pansy whispered to Neville. He leaned over, placing his arm across the back of her chair. Why did she want to put her ear to his chest and listen to his heartbeat?

"Yes," he lowered his voice as he bent in until his mouth was hovering right above her ear. Deep enough it sent shivers down her spine. Was it always so gruff? "I went through hell to get you back, what do you think I would do for her?"

She hadn't been put so far in her place in a long time. He couldn't have made it clearer that any attempt to take Posy from him would result in him getting incredibly violent very quickly.

"Does anyone want to hear my idea?" Susan asked, this time louder.

"Was it hell?" she antagonized, unable to help herself. She didn't care that there were others, including her sister, there to hear. "Your little jaunt?"

"Pure fucking hell," he snapped. "Like you didn't already know that."

"You were in control, why didn't you make it more like, I don't know, a paradise? A sunny beach or secluded mountain top?"

"Is that what Sera does?" Neville mocked. "Guess I'm not like that. Though a vacation would be nice right about now."

"Didn't you just have one? A long one. Decades remember?"

"Any vacation worthwhile would be far, far away from you—"

"Can you two give it a rest?" Posy interrupted. "Susan has something to say!"

Neville and Pansy both leaned away, crossing their arms and frowning.

"Aw thanks Po. I was just remembering the night you brought Annie Stokes into the hospital," Susan said, looking between them. "Remember? She was in bad shape and … Pansy sang her to sleep."

Neville sat up quickly but Pansy just groaned, immediately seeing where this was going. "No, no… not that bloody Fern again."