AN: This chapter just kinda happened. Enjoy 5.5k words! Also, thanks once again for all the favs, follows and reviews!

Also, since so many appear to be bothered about the Black thing: it won't be ignored. It just isn't a major issue as of now.

Pansy was sitting on her bed, her back rested against the wall behind her, staring blankly ahead at nothing in particular.

That treacherous, optimistic little flicker of hope beyond hope within had been snuffed out with unprecedented violence. Her life was over in an instant. How was she supposed to look her friends in the eye? How could she bear to show her face in public again? How could she ever return to Hogwarts?

And all because Potter could not stay out of trouble just once.

"Can you shut up for a minute?! I am trying to explain myself to the Weasleys here! And Hermione."

"If I get my hands on you, Potter, I swear to –"

"Seriously, can you just not talk?! Are you capable of just keeping your mouth shut for five minutes or is yapping all you can do?!"

Her mouth was left agape in shock. Pansy was sure she had heard it right and Potter had just implied that she was talking too much. Such blatant falsehoods on top of all the trouble he was causing her! And he was completely ignoring the breakdown she was having for the weasels and Granger?!

There was a hurried knock on her door and her father and mother were coming in, not waiting for nor needing her permission to enter. They joined her on her bed, sitting on either side of her and both appeared unable to come up with anything to say.

"We knew this would happen at some point, sweetheart," her father finally broke the uncomfortable silence, his voice low. "It...is not the worst thing. I am coming to terms with it. He may be a half-blood and I may have wished for you to marry into a strong, pureblooded family, but...but the Potter name still carries weight."

"A lot of it has to do with the Boy-Who-Lived and his accomplishments as an infant," her mother said stiffly, making Pansy scoff.

"I hate this, I hate this, I hate this!" she despaired, pulling her knees up, resting her elbows on them before cradling her head in her hands.

"This would have been a fantastic match, had he been a pureblood," her father mused, then gently pulled her into his side. "It is what it is, however. This is not the worst that could have happened. The initial blow will be painful, being removed from the Sacred Twenty-Eight will sting aplenty, but we can still work with this, sweetheart."

"He doesn't want you to use the Potter name for your, and I quote, 'pureblood agenda'," she told him, with air quotes and everything.

"How – oh, I see." Her mother winced. "This...bond still is a bit queer."

"Trust me, mother. It is even worse than it may look from the outside. The privacy of my thoughts is nonexistent anymore."

"Well, that certainly makes it more difficult to soften the fallout." Her father sighed. "In the end, you are married into his family. My hands are bound if he does not allow me to use the Potter name politically." He pressed a kiss on her head. "We will have to see what can be done. And...are you able to communicate with him...through this bond?" her father asked her hesitantly.

"Yes. It is like...I am actively thinking and Potter can hear it."

"Then please tell him that a talk is long overdue."

"Ugh. Fine." Pansy tried to listen in on Potter, raising a brow when she heard voices from his own conversation, sounding as if they were echoing from somewhere very far away.

"...got to be a way! He's just a boy and that – that family is horrid!" That was the shrill voice of an older woman. The Weasleys' mother perhaps? She'd show her a horrid family alright.

"Calm down, Molly. Harry, did the headmaster explicitly say that this is irreversible?" A man. She had never heard the voice before but would have to assume that he was the Weasleys' father.

"Yes, Mr Weasley." Potter sighed, clearly fed up with and tired of everyone and everything. "Pretty much every couple in the past, who has tried to break this thing or who did anything against it, usually ends up with both of them dead, Professor Dumbledore said."

"Oh, Harry!" Ugh. Granger. "That it had to be Parkinson, of all people!"

"The worst thing is, I'd do it again, you know?" Potter said, chuckling without humour. "I'd rather this happens than the alternative. You know, like...a Dementor eating her soul. I saw it holding her and..."

That...made her uncomfortable.

"Have you spoken to him?" her mother asked.

"Oh! I, uh, I forgot," she muttered. "He – he has his talk with the Weasleys and his friends. Give me a moment."

"...what I'm supposed to do now. How am I supposed to get along with her? How am I supposed to ever have a happy family?"

"First your parents, then your horrid relatives, now this! This is just terrible, Harry," Pansy heard Granger say. She wondered how Potter's relatives were terrible. There were rumours that he was usually staying with muggles during the summer holidays, so that could be it. Then again, he loved muggles. Did the Weasleys know? They were close to him after all.

"Potter," she spoke finally, "my father wants to talk to you about...this thing."

Pansy heard him sigh impatiently. "I'm at the Burrow, the Weasleys' place. I'm not going to the home of a Death Eater."

She was seething immediately. "You insolent, disrespectful little brat! I told you my father isn't even a follower!"

"Wanting muggles, muggle-borns and half-bloods dead –"

"He doesn't want them dead, you idiot! Now come here so my father can have that bloody talk with you!"

"No. Burrow or no talk."

Pansy growled, clenched her teeth and her fists before exhaling forcefully, earning herself raised brows from her parents.

Then, looking at them, she sighed. "We have to go to the Weasleys' home. Apparently, it is called 'the Burrow'. He called you a Death Eater, father!"

Surprisingly, that made him chuckle. "I have been called worse than that. Let us prepare then. We do want to make a good impression."

Stepping out of the fireplace – she stepped out last, after her parents – Pansy had to do a double-take. The room they were in appeared to be the kitchen, she supposed. There was a fridge, a kitchenette and a large, wooden table, which was pretty old from the looks of it. She could not believe her eyes when her gaze wandered over the chairs. Not a single one matched...anything in the kitchen. Everything was just a big mishmash of different pieces of furniture somehow thrown together without thought or idea.

To be frank...it was a horrid sight.

But, unfortunately, she was not here to heap scathing judgement upon other people's dreadful ideas of classy interior décor. Pansy was here for something that was not nearly as fun. She was here for something that was no fun at all.

"Arthur," her father greeted a thin, balding man with bright red hair. She chuckled inwardly. Such a shocker, that hair colour.

"Penrose."

"May I present: my wife Peony and my daughter Pansy. I assume you are aware of the rather unorthodox circumstances leading to this unexpected get-together?"

"Welcome to the Burrow," the man – Arthur Weasley – responded in kind, inclining his head at them. "Unorthodox circumstances, huh? That's certainly one way to put it." He indicated a room behind him, down a small corridor. "Let us sit in the living room. I assume you don't mind Molly and myself acting as Harry's guardians? We may not be so officially, but he might as well be one of ours –" Don't comment, don't comment, don't comment! "– and we want to show him our moral support if nothing else."

"Of course. It speaks well of you and your relationship with the Boy-Who-Lived."

The man – Arthur – winced at that. "And please don't call him that, just a word of advice. He has developed a distaste for his fame, understandably so. A humble boy, he is. Now, if you would follow me, Harry and Molly are waiting in the living room already."

They did so and entered another mess of a room with mismatched furniture and plants and decorations just tossed across it. Everything about this place was an eyesore. There was, however, this interesting clock showing family members and their whereabouts and health. None of the clock hands were on 'mortal peril', so, there was that going for Weasleys. It certainly was the – no, most likely the only thing in this room that was of any value.

And then she spotted him, sitting on an armchair, glaring at a spot on a hideous rag that was, so she assumed, supposed to be a carpet.

On another armchair next to him sat a plump woman with equally shocking red hair as her husband.

Arthur Weasley gestured at an unoccupied sofa for them to sit on. Her father nodded in thanks and, hesitantly, they sat down. Pansy was sure that their discomfort was painfully obvious and her eyes narrowed when she spotted Potter sport a small smirk.

"Harry – may I call you Harry?" her father began and Potter nodded at least, so there was that. "I hope your summer holidays have been treating you well. However, your unique situation with our daughter has reached a point where we cannot ignore it much longer. The public knows and are surely wondering how this could have happened, considering our families' differing affiliations."

"You mean, you following Voldemort and me being the half-blood responsible that he is gone," Potter replied bluntly, making everyone but himself flinch at the name and driving Pansy and her mother to bristle at his blatant disrespect.

Her father took it with grace, however. "You misunderstand," he replied calmly. "I do not bear the mark," he said, rolling up the sleeves of his robes to show his forearms. "I have not once brandished my wand against muggles, muggle-borns or half-bloods – not ever in my entire life. I have shown my support of the initial idea of segregation between pureblood wizarding families and the rest. I still believe that the massive integration of muggles into our community will have ill long-term effects on our society." Her father gave a polite shrug. "I do not say that muggles and muggle-borns are to be culled from the world, but I do believe that the potential damage they can cause to our world is too significant to ignore."

"And you actually believe what you are saying." Potter raised a brow at her father.

"The more muggle-borns finish their education at Hogwarts and the more of them decide to stay away from our world after their education, the greater the risk of our discovery. Yes, Harry, I do believe what I am saying." Her father then gave a polite smile. "It is just my opinion, however, and I do regret every life lost in the war, your parents' lives included. For what it is worth, have my sincere condolences."

"Thanks…" Potter then sighed, took off his spectacles and rubbed his face. "This is such a mess," he muttered before putting them back on. He then glanced at her for the first time since they arrived. "How are you feeling?"

Pansy was a bit surprised at the question and the sudden attention on her. She scowled and fidgeted, but she didn't want to snap at him; at least not in the presence of her parents. "Drained. Numb. Scared. I keep thinking about how I am supposed to explain any of this in the common room or to Daphne and Draco especially."

He nodded but didn't say anything further.

"We...have a specific reason for wanting to talk with you, Harry," her father continued. "I am sure Pansy has told you about the consequences this soulbond has on our family."

"You'll fall out of your elite club, yeah," Potter said dryly.

"There is no need to be this standoffish, Harry," her mother scolded him gently. "Yes, the directory may appear rather exclusive. In the end, however, it is just a list. The Weasley family is included as well as the Longbottoms, Abbotts, Macmillans – and they are all rather muggle-friendly, are they not? I must wonder why the Potters were never included, however. Their line was, supposedly, pure up until James's marriage with the muggle-born," her mother mused, looking at her father.

"Lily," Potter bit out. "My mother's name was Lily."

"Of course." Her mother inclined her head politely. "My apologies."

"Being included in the Sacred Twenty-Eight may come with considerable privileges, however, that is true," her father continued to explain, "especially political sway and prestige." He then sighed. "However, with this...union...we will lose a lot of either."

"So, you want to use my family's name for your agenda?"

Her father just chuckled. "I would like to, but Pansy already told me about your vehement refusal."

"Good on him as well," Molly Weasley remarked with a huff.

Pansy narrowed her eyes at her.

"What is it that you want then?" Potter asked, looking at them with unhidden suspicion.

"For you to show respect, understanding and care about our reputation," her father said firmly. "The Parkinson family has a long and proud tradition and is well respected throughout our community. The marriage between our daughter – my...only child –" her father stumbled for a moment, making Potter cock his head slightly and her heart ache, "– changes a lot, if not everything. This union is not unsalvageable, however."

"So, what? You just want me to get along with Park...with Pansy?" Potter clarified, surprising her by using her first name.

"Presenting a united front to the public can go a long way. This doesn't have to remain just a scandalous marriage. It could gradually blossom into a good relationship for you and my daughter. It could become a bridge between different opinions and worldviews, an example for our society."

Pansy glanced at her father with unbridled surprise.

"And do you believe that as well, Penrose," Arthur Weasley inquired shrewdly, speaking up for the first time, "or would this just be a convenient bit of good publicity for your family after being removed from the directory?"

"Whether I believe it or not is of no consequence," her father answered without missing a beat. "I would, of course, be more than happy for my daughter, should she indeed establish a good rapport with her husband." That made her visibly cringe. "However," he continued, "it would be good for us and our family to show a harmonious relationship between Pansy and Harry and between Peony, myself and Harry. That, for now, is my main concern: to rebuild our reputation."

Potter shook his head slowly. "I don't see why I should care, honestly."

"Because our reputation is now your reputation." Her father leaned forward, looking Potter straight in the eyes. "Whether you want to or not, Harry, we are family now. You are my son-in-law. I am your father-in-law and Peony your mother-in-law. My daughter is your wife in the eyes of the wizarding public and bound by the higher powers of magic itself. What befalls us, befalls you and what befalls you, befalls us." Sitting up straight again, her father furrowed his brows a bit. "I do follow the newspaper closely, Harry, and I do understand the whims of journalists – especially the witch who wrote the article about Pansy and you."

"Rita Skeeter," Arthur Weasley elaborated for Potter, earning himself a nod from her father. "A terrible woman and an unscrupulous journalist."

"Indeed," her father confirmed. "With this marriage, you will be pressured even more under the spotlight than you are already and, along with you, so will be my daughter."

Potter was quiet for a while, clearly thinking. The room was silent and everyone was seemingly waiting with bated breath just for him to speak. "I want to ask you one question," he finally said, breaking the silence and standing up from the armchair. He was pacing for a bit before facing her awaiting father and looking him straight in the eyes. "Humour me, please: let's say that Voldemort suddenly returned and demanded that you hand me over...what would you do?"

Her eyes and mouth widened at the question, but her father didn't hesitate with his answer.

"Your death would mean my daughter's death." Her father glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. "My loyalty lies, first and foremost, with my family and I would die for them before subjecting them to harm."

Potter slowly nodded, then smirked at her. "You weren't lying."

Pansy was confused at first before she remembered. "Of course. My father is a good man."

"A good family man, at least," he corrected her, making her angry again, but she exhaled slowly through her nose to calm herself down. Potter then returned his attention to her father. "Should it ever be necessary – and I really hope it won't – I'll hold you to these words, Mr Parkinson. I'll hold you to your promise that you will always put your family above everything else."

Her father chuckled, got up from the sofa and held out a hand for Potter. "I highly doubt it will ever come to that, but I'll be sure to remember. Do we have an agreement then?"

Potter, sighing, and somewhat reluctantly, took her father's hand in a firm handshake. "I suppose. I'll do my best to be...well, friendly, I guess, with Park– with Pansy." He shrugged. "I can't promise more than that. I've no idea if you knew, but we didn't exactly have the best of relationships before this."

"I understand and I thank you for your honesty."

Potter gave a jerky nod, then turned to the two Weasleys. "Thank you again for being here with me, Mr and Mrs Weasley. It really meant a lot."

Arthur Weasley stood and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Of course, Harry. Are you sure you're alright with this?"

Chuckling without humour, Potter threw up his hands a bit in a helpless gesture. "I have to be. And, honestly, this still went better than I expected."

Pansy had to wonder what it was he had expected.

"If there is anything you ever need – any help, any advice – please never hesitate, dear," Molly Weasley then added, joining her husband.

Potter just gave another jerky nod and even looked a bit teary-eyed.

"If you do not mind, I would like for Harry and Pansy to spend some time together," her father suddenly said, making her stare at him with wide and shocked eyes, earning herself a stern look from her mother in return. "Maybe a walk through your garden? It looked quite beautiful from the kitchen."

Arthur and Molly Weasley gave Harry a questioning look, who, again, looked a bit helpless, his gaze on her. "Might as well, I suppose," he said reluctantly before glancing at her. "Ron and Hermione are outside as well and wanted to talk with you."

"I can hardly contain myself," Pansy answered dryly before following Potter outside, her arms crossed over her chest. Once they were well beyond earshot of the kitchen and in the garden, she glared at Potter, eyes narrowed angrily. "What in Merlin's name was that question you asked my father?! In front of the Weasleys no less!"

Potter scoffed at her. "Mr Weasley warned me about Death Eater affiliations your father has. Besides, I wanted to see the kind of man he is." He shrugged. "I'm pleasantly surprised, to be honest. He didn't hesitate with his answer."

"Of course he didn't."

"I also wanted to see what kind of family I'm being forced into. I don't like the way you and your family think...actually, I hate it," he corrected himself with a scowl, "but your family life seems...nice. So, maybe, I won't hate my life."

"Does this have to do with your muggle relatives?" she asked curiously despite herself.

"That's none of your business."

"Well, excuse me, but it kind of became my business after –," she made hand motions between them, indicating the bond, "– this!"

"It isn't, so, drop it."

"Just unbelievable," she muttered angrily, taking a conscious step to the side to put more distance between them. "This is my new normal, huh? Joy."

"I don't know what you were expecting, Pansy," he said with a huff and without stumbling over her first name. "We can barely hold a civil conversation. I don't see why I'm suddenly obligated to share anything with you."

She just shot him a look of contempt. Then she looked him up and down and wrinkled her nose. "Before we return to Hogwarts, you will get a whole new wardrobe. I will not show myself in public with you while you wear these...ugh, calling these things clothing would be an insult to actual clothing."

Potter just looked down at himself and shrugged. "I guess."

"You guess?" Pansy stared at him disbelievingly. Getting no further reaction, she threw her hands up in the air.

"You know, I think at this point we can just stop with this whole last-name-calling thing. I'm trying. You should too. It's for your family, after all."

Pansy glanced at him. "And for you as well. Don't you forget that." She kept glancing at him, then deflated a bit. "I suppose...Harry." She shuddered. "Merlin, this feels weird."

"The talking or the using of first names?"

Despite herself, Pansy huffed a laugh. "Both."

Having walked at a leisurely pace for a bit, she took the time to take a real look around herself, a sound of displeasure escaping her. "Honestly, this entire place is horrid. The...house, if you want to be generous, and the garden – has this place ever been weeded at all?"

"I like it."

Pansy snorted. "I'm hardly surprised, Potter." Wincing, she corrected herself. "Harry, I mean. Of course, you would like it."

"Well, it has character."

She had a feeling there was more to it, but he wouldn't even give her a mental hint. Instead, he went on to go through his list of spells again, his eyes focused on ahead.

"I'm not going to say anything. Don't even bother asking."

"You seriously need to work on your communication skills."

Potter – Harry – raised a brow at her, his expression disbelieving. "You are talking to me about communication skills? You are the one who's unable to say anything without judging and belittling others!"

"I'm just saying what I think – most of the time. I don't see how that's a bad thing."

He didn't answer and just stuffed his hands in his too-large muggle pants. "Let's sit there and talk," he suddenly said, indicating a tree with a nod.

"And what is it we've done so far then?" she asked rhetorically, following him under the shadow of the tree.

Harry leaned against the trunk and she sat down across from him with a bit of distance between them, her feet tucked beneath her.

"So," Harry began after clearing his throat. "So. Umm, this is – this is kind of official now, isn't it? Everyone knows."

"Your observation skills are astounding," Pansy said dryly with a blank expression.

Exhaling forcefully, he continued. "What – what exactly is expected of me – of us – now?"

"Just make it look like we don't hate each other's guts in public," she answered. "You know, you will have to take me out on Hogsmeade dates, meet during the day for an hour or two to spend some time together and ask about each other's days...we should probably also stop antagonizing each other in front of everyone," she mused. Not that it would stop her from doing so in the privacy of their thoughts. Pansy grinned when he rolled his eyes.

Then, however, he winced. "I, uh, I don't have a signed permission slip for Hogsmeade."

Her eyes widened for a moment, then she nodded. "Right, right. I remember. Why wouldn't your muggle relatives sign it anyway? And," she quickly added with a raised finger, "how did Draco see your floating head in front of the Shrieking Shack?"

"I don't want to answer either," Harry muttered, avoiding looking in her direction.

His whole demeanour was starting to get rather annoying and frustrating. "What can you tell me then? If we are supposed to build any kind of rapport, you are doing a terrible job so far, I'll have you know."

"Again, I don't see how sharing any of these things with you has anything to do with pretending that we are a happy, little family."

"Fine then. Be that way. Remember, however, that I am in your head." She pointed a finger at him. "Sooner or later you'll let something slip." Crossing her arms over her chest, she glanced around, spotting the home of the Weasleys behind them, seeing it in full for the first time. Very obviously held up by magic, several parts appeared to have been added since its initial construction afterwards, making it appear to be constantly on the verge of collapsing. It really was an ugly sight.

"So...about that permission slip –" Harry began, but she quickly cut in.

"I doubt it will be much of an issue. Best case, we will both be emancipated with this...marriage." Pansy grimaced in distaste. Just saying it out loud tasted foul in her mouth. "Worst case, my father can sign it for you."

Then, silence followed. She didn't know what else to say and, apparently, neither did Harry. Maybe this was, in a way, what she should prepare herself for: her future, her life, her marriage. Granted, in the society she was from, she was at home in, there rarely were romantically happy marriages. There could be happy marriages, even among the arranged ones, but marriages out of love were a rather rare occurrence. She had already mentally prepared herself that, should she not fall in love with a suitable partner, that she would at least find some kind of common ground and forge a cordial relationship with her husband to be. Even at her age, she would not have been amiss to think of such things.

This, however...she could not have ever prepared herself for this. A half-blood she could not stand with a worldview and lifestyle so vastly different from hers – they'd constantly be butting heads. How was she supposed to cope with this?

"Now you know how I am feeling."

Pansy glanced at him, frowning, entirely unhappy, angry, frustrated, mad at the world and fate and magic and whatever else there was. "What you are feeling can't even come close to what I am feeling, Potter."

He sighed and shook his head with a humourless smile. "You are right about that." He sounded sarcastic and before she could ask him to elaborate, he stood up again and motioned for her to follow him. "Ron and Hermione wanted to talk to you as well, remember? Let's just get this over with."

Her frown deepened. "I honestly don't see the point. I have no interest in talking with Weasley or Granger."

"If you don't talk with them now, they'll just corner you in Hogwarts."

"They can bloody well try!"

Harry groaned in annoyance. "Just come on already!"

"Ugh! Fine!"

She got up to her feet, crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him expectantly. "Well? Where to?"

"See that orchard over there?" he asked, pointing at a group of trees behind the garden. He began heading that way, prompting her to follow him. "They're over there. It's a good place to play Quidditch."

"I don't care much for sports."

"That's fine."

Silence took over again as they walked side by side to the orchard, Pansy again making sure that there was clear distance between them. She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. A frown, hands stuffed in his pockets, occasional sighs escaping him and the repeat of spells in his head, over and over again like a mantra – it was obvious he was just as miserable as she felt.

And still, what she had heard him say this morning when she had listened in on him...ugh, sometimes she wished he was as much of a coward as Draco and yet, here they were because he just had to be too brave and noble for his own good.

Harry gave her a startled look. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

Pansy groaned and let her hands drop to her sides. "When you said that...despite all of this...that you would still make the same decisions...I do appreciate the thought." Hiding her flushed face in her hands, Pansy shook her head. "If Draco could see me right now, he'd pop a vein."

"Honestly? I'm kind of excited to see his reaction to all of this."

"I'm sure you are," she replied with a roll of her eyes.

They reached the orchard and she could see Harry's ginger sidekick flying with the annoying pranksters. The Weasley girl and the muggle-born sidekick were sitting by one of the trees.

"They have names, you know?" he growled angrily at her, making her roll her eyes and the other girls turn around at his voice.

"Harry!" Granger greeted him with a smile, which immediately fell when her eyes landed on her. "Parkinson."

"Granger. What a displeasure it is to see you outside of Hogwarts."

"Trust me, the feeling is mutual."

Pansy looked at the Weasley girl, who was pretty enough, she supposed, but was glaring at her something fierce. Pansy was about to ask her just what her problem was when her eyes widened and a grin formed on her face, Harry's thoughts a whirlwind of panic and begging.

"Aren't you the girl who sent Harry that ridiculous poem about his eyes like pickled frogs or something?"

The girl's face flushed a furious red and tears welled up in her eyes, but she stood her ground. Pansy could respect that.

"That was uncalled for, Pansy," Harry chided her, making her scoff.

"I don't see how, but whatever. You said your sidekicks wanted to talk to me, so...here I am."

As if on cue, the other Weasleys finally landed and got off their brooms.

"That your wifey, Harry?" one of the twins asked.

"Well, at least she's not ugly." the other said after looking her up and down, making her frown. It wasn't lecherous or anything, but still.

"It's Parkinson, it could've hardly been any worse," Harry's Weasley said with a glare aimed at her.

"Are you done?" Pansy huffed with annoyance, her hands on her hips. "You and Granger are apparently oh-so eager to talk to me. Here I am. What do you want?"

It was Weasley who stepped up. Harry's Weasley. He tried to look threatening, but even kind and gentle Astoria, Daphne's little sister, would hardly be threatened. "I still don't know how this happened and, honestly, I don't care," he began and pointed a rude finger at her, "but I'm going to keep my eyes on you."

"Would hardly make any difference," she threw in with a drawl while examining her fingernails, "because your eyes are usually on me or Daphne." She glanced up. "You know, Daphne Greengrass."

He flushed and spluttered and waved her off. "That's not the point!" He wasn't even denying it. "And it's not true!" There it was. "What I want to say is," he went on, trying to get back on track, "that if you do anything to hurt Harry, you're going to have a problem with all of us. He's like our brother."

Like you are in desperate need of another one. "Why is it that no one worries about me – the girl – forced into this situation?" she asked them. "He is my husband now and I want no part of this. Why is no one worried that he could just take what he wants of me, with or without my consent, just because it is my wifely duty?"

Harry looked positively scandalized. "I–I would never! That's – that's just – not in a million years!"

"Because we know that Harry is way too noble to ever do something that vile," Granger said with a furious glare, "and you know that. The same can't be said about you."

Pansy rolled her eyes. She was starting to get a headache from all the eye-rolling they forced her into. "Don't you worry. I will only ever touch your hero for appearance's sake." Glancing at him, she crossed her arms over her chest again, taking an unconscious step away.

She really didn't want any part in this, but it was what it was. No, she'd only ever touch him for appearance's sake. In private she wouldn't even dare to get close with her wand at hand, even if she'd have to die a maiden.

No. No chance.

"I should be insulted, but the feeling is mutual."

Pansy could only glare at him.