Teeth buried themselves into her neck as long sandy hair fell across her skin. She gasped with need as the scent of autumn leaves, and cinnamon engulfed her, the underlying scent of him holding her in place. He growled into her skin, careful only to bruise and not bleed her. Her breath came in ragged pants, she needed this, needed him, wanted him to take her. he ground into her behind, teasing her as his hardness rubbed against her eagerly. Whimpering, she pushed back, anything to gain friction. She cried out as strong hands threaded through her hair, pulling her head back against him. Baring her throat. If he wanted to kill her, now would be the time.

The teeth released her as he reared back leaving a cold throbbing ache at her neck, she wanted more. She opened her mouth to beg when he plunged into her, forcing the air from her lungs. The pleasure mingled with the pain as he pushed deeply, grunting in satisfaction. Slowly he slid out again, causing her to whimper at the loss of him before he thurst in again, filling her. with small movements he moved back and forth, stroking her most sensitive spot.

A heavy breath left her as he built a steady rhythm, pounding against her rump with a satisfying slap that only seemed to add to her arousal. His balls bounced against her, striking her clit with every drive, edging her ever closer. A strong hand gripped her hip, claws digging into her flesh as the other pulled her hair again, forcing her up and baring her breasts to the air.

A clawed hand rose to her breast and squeezed, as his other arm held her, strapping her to his firm chest. Her head was pulled to the side as she glanced back. Eyes the colour of a summer forest met hers, like honey and pine needles. Meeting her gaze, he bit her shoulder marking her as his own, pushing her ever closer to that shining moment. He grunted urgently before suddenly she was rolled over.

She pulled him back to her, his black hair spilling into her fingers. This angle was better, as his hands cupped her hips, pulling her closer. His striking dark blue eyes stared down at her as he smirked dangerously. Her eyes fell shut as he focused his movements, just rubbing against her, stoking the fire burning in her blood. He lowered his head to her breast and bit down, digging teeth into her sensitive flesh before a tongue swiped against the taut nipple. Arching her back with surprise and sensation, she cried out, arms waving around desperately. Grasping for something to grab onto, something to save herself from the fall.

She was so close, teetering on the edge, both eager and afraid to fall off. A thick, hot tongue swiped at her sensitive nipple again, launching her off and over the edge. Pansy fell, crying and shaking into oblivion as he rode her, thrusting into her before grunting his own release.

Laying breathless, boneless and relaxed, she opened her eyes, meeting bright blue eyes with her own. The familiar eyes smirking down at her, a knowing glint in their depths. She smiled back before plunging her fingers into the coppery hair, pulling Ron in for a kiss as he collapsed on top of her. He pulled back and grinned, his eyes flashing eagerly.

"Missed you Pans! Soon…" he said as he stroked her stomach knowingly, "I won't have to miss you any more, we'll be together forever." Realisation dawned as he stroked the roundness of her stomach. Fear burst through her, thrusting him off as she crawled backwards and away.

She was alone…

Rubbing at her stomach absently, Pansy tried in vain to concentrate on the patient's file in front of her. She scowled at the page as her thoughts returned to the dream. She rubbed at her neck and shivered, still feeling the feel of his teeth in her flesh. As dreams went, it had been a good one. However, dreaming of Neville brought forth uncomfortable notions and even more difficult questions to her mind that she wasn't inclined to answer even to herself.

She cupped her stomach again thinking of Ron's eager gaze. Terror flashed across her skin, and she shivered, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. Ron had never said anything about having children or shown even the slightest interest in becoming a father, but she couldn't shake the connection. Damn Weasley's and their super fertility, even his older brother, Percy had two children already, and they had only been married three years. She pondered for a moment what life could hold for her as Mrs Pansy Weasley…

"A Knut for your thoughts," A voice asked from her right shoulder. She jumped scattering the pages from her desk and knocking the inkwell.

"Shit," She uttered stumbling away from the noise.

"Woah, Sorry," Came the voice. The accent was middle-American and male. She looked up and came face to face with dark blue eyes that had recently been doing terrible things to her insides. She straightened up and turned around as she tried to gather herself. This couldn't be happening.

She heard him collecting the sheets from off the floor, and a slurping noise indicated that he was cleaning up the ink with his wand too. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath before turning around. "Hey, look. Sorry, I scared you," He offered, his face concerned but friendly. She swallowed, remembering the look in his eyes in her dream. "I'm Healer Owens, friends call me Mitch," He said, with a smile, straight white teeth peeking out from behind his plump lips.

He offered his hand to her, and she took it just out of politeness. "Healer Proctor, I presume?" He asked his dark eyebrows rising in curiosity.

She nodded, still breathless at the sudden shock. "Ms Bulstrode didn't tell me that you were so quiet," he teased. "Quite the opposite, in fact,"

"Don't believe everything you hear," She breathed, studying him carefully.

"She speaks,"

"When I want to," She muttered,

"I really am sorry, are you alright?" His face seemed so disarming she almost wanted to smile and nod.

"I'll be fine," She muttered again.

He rolled his lips against his tongue as he studied her. "You're a strange duck,"

"I am not a duck, nor am I strange. I am tired and irritated, Please leave,"

He chuckled unabashed and looked down as if contemplating something.

"Can we start again? I'm Mitchell Owens, I was a Pukwudgie at Ilvermorney school of witchcraft and wizardry. I trained for six years at the Bellazine Buchanan medical institute before transferring here. I like rainy afternoons, Chocolate fudge cake and Soccer" He offered his hand out with a shy smile, raising his dark eyebrows in the form of a silent question.

She looked at it for a moment and sighed. Taking it again, she shook it, his hand feeling firm and warm in her own.

"Nice to meet you," She smiled back tightly. Owens waited patiently for several heartbeats, a smirk growing on his lips.

"Aren't you going to tell me about yourself?" He asked as he took his hand back before pushing it through his short dark hair.

"Nope," She said with a smirk, before returning her eyes to her work.

"Then I will just have to return again tomorrow to find out more. Can I at least take your name?" He asked.

She paused for a moment, the false name tripping up on her tongue. "It's Pansy, Pansy Proctor," She said looked back at him.

"Well, Pansy, Healer Pansy Proctor, I will see you around. I will clearly announce myself next time,"

"That would be a blessing," She nodded.

"Until tomorrow then," He said as he pushed through the doors.

"Hold those doors!" an urgent voice shouted. Owens looked up, his face setting into the professional lines of a doctor on duty. He held the door and stepped out of the way. Two mediwitches levitated the lifeless body of an old woman in. Pansy stood, wand ready to start observations and treatment when she froze.

"Augusta?" She asked. Her heart stopping as the name slipped off her tongue.

"You know her?" Owens asked. Pansy nodded before turning to the Mediwitch.

"What, in Salazar's name, happened?"

"Healer Proctor! Treat the patient first, questions can wait for now," Healer Sloane announced as he rushed in behind the last mediwitch, "Now, let's get her comfortable, shall we?"