Author's note: Just upped the chapter count, given that I'm posting shorter updates! Hope you don't mind. ;)
Ron unravels a bit, and gets more questions than answers. Pansy clings to any sense of control.
On a lay-by beside a narrow, unlit road, a man with unkempt red hair appeared as if out of nowhere, supporting an exhausted woman, with an arm around her waist. She sagged against his side, clutching a small barn owl to her chest in turn. The bird squawked unbridled protestations, undoubtedly regarding the singed wingtips and tail feathers it had incurred moments earlier. The woman's head lolled.
"No, no, no-come on, stay on your feet." He squinted to try to make out any landmarks but any sense of their surroundings evaded him. He readjusted his grip, forcing her to release the bird, who climbed up her torso in panic and sank his talons into the man's shoulder. "Fuck, Achilles! Pans, come on. Find your feet. This bloody owl's going to take my arm off."
"Sure have a way with words, don't you, Red?" Pansy grasped his wrist, and used his stance to leverage her balance. She pitched forward, but he held fast to keep her from falling. Between her white-knuckled hold on his hand and digging her heels into the gravel, Pansy regained herself. She quieted her breathing, and the feeling returned to her legs. She was winded, but stable.
"Sorry…" Ron released her cautiously. "I wasn't thinking." She brushed him off. The bird's talons were harder to loosen, but the prickling fed into his adrenaline.
"Where the hell are we?" Ron winced. Achilles nipped the shell of his ear in either apology or thanks. He patted the bird's head.
"On the route between Beckhampton and Bishop's Canning."
"Wiltshire. What about Hogwarts?"
"Not going there," Pansy laughed, but the levity didn't reach her eyes. "Couldn't pay me enough to go back. Besides… they're safe, and we're free to-"
Ron snorted. "We're not going to the Manor, are we?"
"I picked a stretch of uninhabited road, Weasley! I couldn't think of anywhere else we'd be safe which wouldn't immediately endanger civilians. It's the most boring stretch of road in England!"
"You could've have taken us to the bloody Hebrides! Why not the moon?" She ignored his wild conjectures, unsleeving her wand and levelling it at her companion's chest. His face fell.
"'S not funny, Pans."
"Do I look like I'm making a joke?" Her black bob cut a fierce line beneath her cheekbones, and she flicked her wrist. Ron braced for impact, for a spell to hit him square in the chest, but… something thumped behind him. He jumped, frightening Achilles into the air. A heap lay less than a metre away. Black robes. Silver mask. No body inside.
"No," Ron panted. "Doesn't look like a joke."
She sniffed. "You can trust me." She stepped around him and kicked at the fabric. It was just that: a pile of black wool. She sighed. "Bloody lazy, Amycus."
Ron hovered over her shoulder to view the fabric at her feet. "Do you blame me for wondering if you would do it, though? Natalie?"
"Can't believe you never suspected."
"I have never been accused of being observant," he mumbled.
The whoosh of apparition surrounded them, and the woman in black heeled boots steadied her back against her red-headed partner's. The black robes moved in, but none drew a wand, or uttered a word. Pansy could've cried in relief.
"That's all?" she snickered.
"They're not attacking..."
"No," she said. "They're tracers. Harmless. Their only purpose is to pin us here until Carrow can scry for us." Before he could react, Pansy stepped up to the closest tracer, and touched her wand to the forehead of the mask. It dropped to the ground, along with the black robe, causing the rest of the tracers to gaze skyward. She knelt and took the mask in hand, not letting the metal touch her face but still leaning close enough to feel the vibrations on her skin. She spoke the words she had heard Carrow recite a hundred times before:
"Quaerite et invenietis." The mask flashed as if electrocuted, and then it rose out of her hand.
"Quem quaeritis?" Metallic lips spoke the words in a silvery rasp.
Pansy tapped the mask's mouth. "Amycus Carrow."
As swiftly as they had come, the tracers vanished, but a rune shone at the base of Pansy's thumb. She pocketed her wand again and turned towards Ron. He stared at her, mouth agape.
"You're terrifying. I mean it."
"You're sweet to say so." Pansy extended her elbow to the owl, who hadn't yet decided whether she could be trusted. He screeched at her, and alighted on a nearby rock. Pansy fixed the bird with a glare. Achilles clacked his beak in response. Almost as soon as the tracers disappeared, as if it had waited out the danger, a stag galloped forward from the ether, blue and radiant.
"Pansy, Ron. We're safe at the castle. Let us know you're alright. If you're in danger, we'll find you." The stag posed, almost frozen in place, but Pansy pointed her wand at her companion, lest he attempt to speak. The patronus dissipated, unanswered.
"They'll worry." Ron put his hands in his pockets to keep himself from conjuring his own patronus, and he stared downward. "I… I know it's not that simple, but surely…" the sentiment trailed off into nothing, carried away on a breeze. "We're alive. They deserve to know."
Pansy frowned. "So like Potter to hazard a patronus, when the chips are down. Without any assurance it is warranted. The most bold and inelegant of measures, so like a Quidditch star, like the chosen one, with no regard to the way patronuses can be traced, how their magical signature reveals more than it ought, to any wizard with sense to follow. That message could draw more attention to us than Carrow's spell. Leave it to Potter not to know the truth behind his spellwork." She spat, blood rising in anger. Worse than all that, Potter obviously didn't trust them-specifically her-to keep safe.
Let him sweat. As soon as they had their moment, when they knew they were truly safe... then, they would let the others know. Draco would have faith in her… He wouldn't give up hope. And maybe not knowing would keep the others vigilant. Weasley was dubiously quiet, but she felt his eyes on her face.
"Come on, Weasley. We have a limited time before the tracers direct us to Carrow's whereabouts, and I'd rather not waste any time-"
"We should at least let the others know we're alright!" His voice broke.
Pansy shook her head. "Draco will know."
"How?" Ron threw up his hands.
"He'll know." She looked away. "We cannot put ourselves at further risk. No rash spells, no patronuses, no owled love notes. Got it?"
He coughed, digging his toe into the dirt. "Got it."
"Good." She put her wand away again and rubbed her temple. With her arm aching like anything, it was hard to think straight.
What would really be the harm in going to Hogwarts? Seek asylum for a while, squeeze the last possible moments out of time with Draco before his trial began. Get Hermione to look at her like she used to when she thought she was just a mousey assistant. Maybe hold the baby on her knee, for longer than a fleeting hour betwixt dusk and dawn when no one else stirred, and Freddie had needed a gentle hand... What would be the harm in choosing safety before duty?
The trouble was, they had all run out of time. If Carrow's firebomb had proved anything, it busted through the idea that secrets equaled protection-that a location, however hidden by fidelius charms and wards could still be invaded by the right person with enough nerve. If their friends were to have any hope of pulling off the gala at the Malfoy family estate, let alone getting Draco off at his trial, they had to keep Carrow's attention split between threats. Not to mention, Weasley could prove to be Draco's ticket out of Azkaban, if Hermione wasn't given the opportunity to testify. Pansy could insure his protection. If he continued to push her, she'd find a place to lock him up until the morning of the trial, gala be damned. Then, she'd go the Carrow.
If all else failed... she'd go to Carrow alone.
"Pansy… I don't know how we got out of there alive, I really don't."
"Be grateful we did."
"Do you think Carrow walked away from the burn?"
"He wasn't there. No chance he'd risk dying in a house fire. If he lost anyone, all the better for us."
Ron squatted down, rubbing his face in pure exhaustion. He hid behind his fist as his eyes darted back and forth, seeing things in his head which played in a flashing reel.
She frowned. "Are you going to panic on me?"
He shook his head. "I'm just… gods. Thinking back to the pensieve and what Justin chose to share. I know we're living it, but-gods," he repeated. "I didn't realize how many of us were embroiled in all this. I mean, I knew, but I didn't conceive of it, not fully. I've been focused on Hermione and her safety, and on keeping Freddie happy, and… leaving the rest to pass by, without giving it too much thought. I haven't even let myself think about Annika, and I can't do it or I want to burst into tears. And now we're all running, again. This is not the world I wanted to build for my child. Is… is Freddie alright? She's there alone, she'll fuss all night-we haven't been apart since Annika disappeared. What if she doesn't remember her mother?"
His fears came pouring out of him, as if he hadn't realized the true danger of their situation until it had almost been taken from them by a firebomb, and until he was charged to ignore a message from his best friend. He sniffed away unbidden tears. "I-she's with Imelda, she'll be fine. I know it. Gods… who was I, until she existed? Just an idiot, with no purpose."
"Now you're an idiot with a kid."
He couldn't help but laugh, but Pansy could see it was taking everything within him to be measured and calm. It was frankly impressive, especially for him, considering what they had escaped, but… this was not the time to lose it. They had an extremely limited time to take action, either to pursue Carrow and hit him when he wasn't expecting it, or to find a new place to hide. It was not in Pansy's nature to cower behind walls and await her fate. Ron Weasley had no choice in going along with her if he had any design on saving his child's mother. Let Hermione and Draco hide away at Hogwarts, while she did the work of piercing through Carrow's resolve. This was no time to break down. Still… Ron looked up at her, unblinking.
"The things you've seen, Pansy…"
"...You had no idea Justin had reached out to me."
"No. As far as I knew, Natalie Coleman was an adept witch who put on the act of aloofness for Hermione's sake. Well," he huffed a laugh, "I suppose I was half right. What… what was it like to be there when…?"
"When Goyle killed him?" Pansy straightened her spine.
What was it like? To see the man who had trusted her with the most important assignment she had ever been given speared through the stomach, only to be crucio'd for it, and have the whole of her pitifully short life flash before her eyes, and to be left wanting… for the last thing she saw before what she thought was the end to be Hermione at her side, knowing she had failed them both? What was that like?
Pansy pressed her lips in a thin line. "What do you think, Weasley?" The words came out in a pained voice she couldn't be sure was her own. Ron didn't push her, but he stood. He nodded once, and his own emotions seemed to sober. Pansy teetered a moment on her heels. Ron steadied her by the elbow.
"Do you have your land legs?"
"Don't baby me."
"Took a lot of power to hold back the fiendfyre, it… it would be alright if you weren't."
Pansy lifted her chin in defiance, but the earnestness of his concern squashed the biting instinct in her to cut him off abruptly. "Weasley…"
"Parkinson."
"Just… I'll tell you if I'm not alright. Alright?"
"Noted."
Pansy leaned into him a bit. "But while we're on the subject… my arm is bloody killing me. Could you-"
"Of course." Ron helped her shuck her coat and he slung it over his arm. She cuffed her sleeve until the skin of her amputated arm was exposed to the air. It wasn't inspectable in the low light, but the cool air brought instant relief. "Is it…"
She groaned. "It's excruciating, half the time it feels like my arm is still there, and at night, I get this bizarre sensation of spiders crawling up my shoulder-"
"Is it going to be long before we hear from the tracers?" He spoke over the top of her, and Pansy blinked. She let out a guarded breath.
"Depends. They don't alert under the cover of wards, but if they can't contact the original caster, they retreat beyond the wards and emit a flare. Nothing he can do will smother the signal."
"How is that possible?"
Pansy rubbed her shoulder, rolling the blasted thing. Why was losing an arm so unlike any other wound? It was still there, dogging her as if it still dangled from the cap of her shoulder. Almost as annoying as persistent questions from a Gryffindor.
"He designed it that way. It takes deep and unforgivable magic to create such a spell."
"Could the tracers have sent our location to him before you redirected them?"
"Could have. But we won't be here for long, and Carrow won't apparate anywhere which hasn't been cleared by his scouts. And hopefully the worst damage Potter's patronus did was to annoy me." Pansy gestured for her coat. She fished in the pocket for a folded piece of paper. "Nicked this from the raven, it's probably why the tracers trailed us from the Nest." She shooed Achilles from the rock, and set the torn newspaper atop it. With a sticking charm, there it would stay. One more breadcrumb to misdirect Carrow's focus.
"So, we're to wait out the tracers?" Ron inclined his head, stretching a strain between his shoulders.
"If we don't receive a location in the next two minutes, I'll call them back to me."
"Best be ready, eh? Achilles… go home," Ron instructed. The bird chirped and took flight, white feathers shining in the moonlight. The man seemed to steel himself, setting his shoulders back.
"Can't believe you resisted the urge to send the beast to his mistress."
"Whatever you think of me, Parkinson, I can abide plain directions. I know when I'm not the expert. And it's been more than two minutes since you sent the tracers."
Pansy raised her wand. Before she could utter the charm to call the tracer's signal, the rune at her thumb glowed. Sparks shot from the end of her wand, manifesting the image of a silver mask before her. It spoke clearly.
"Fifty one point five degrees North, point one three degrees West."
Pansy waved her wand to dispel the tracer's call. She smiled at Ron. "He isn't trying to be discreet anymore. Well, let's get a move on." Pansy pulled her coat on.
"Where to?"
"Something must be wrong if he's in Westminster. I can't remember the last time he remained in London longer than a day, and never to the city centre."
"Hang on-the Ministry? But we can't get in unnoticed-"
"Merlin's ghost, Weasley-would you stop asking so many questions? I am a bloody Unspeakable! I am a secret keeper, there are many, many things which I cannot fully explain to you. I was the one who told Justin about the decommissioning of the Love Chamber. If you're not on board to come-"
He scratched his chin. "No, no! I'm on board. Just… can't keep up, quite. I'll... follow your lead. If I've learned anything in the last few months, it's just to shut up and follow."
Pansy rolled her eyes. "Good." She extended her wand. Ron mimicked her posture with his own. He took her shoulder, and felt the sharp tug of side-along apparition.
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