AN: Here is another chapter! Thanks, everyone, for the lovely reviews! you guys are fantastic!

To say that dinner was awkward would be a vast understatement.

Not once, not even in the farthest recesses of her mind, had Pansy ever even considered that there could be the most minuscule of chances of sharing a family dinner with Harry Potter.

And now, here he was, sitting in the dining room and across from her at the table, looking a bit lost with the different cutlery displayed before him, while Biffy was serving smoked leeks and salt marsh lamb. She caught him staring at her hands and trying to imitate her before he relaxed visibly.

"I'm just using a fork and a knife. Merlin, calm down. Just try not to drip the gravy all over the place."

That made him tense up again and eat slowly and methodically. She had to stop herself from snorting and rolling her eyes.

"So, Harry," her father began, breaking the silence of the dinner table, "I would like to know more about you."

Harry frowned and waited until he had swallowed the mouthful of lamb he was chewing. Pansy was pleased to see that at least and that he was chewing with his mouth closed. Eating next to the likes of Vincent, Gregory and Theodore was always an extreme exercise of patience. Even Millicent was capable of showing more decorum at the breakfast or dinner table than those three.

"I'm not going to answer everything."

Her father smiled. "That is only fair. I wouldn't either if I was in your position. What I am most curious about is if there is a kernel of truth around the events of your first years in Hogwarts. Rumours are wont to take a life of their own, as you surely must have experienced by now." Her father then glanced briefly at her. "Still, Pansy was with you in school and some of the things she has seen and heard must have come from somewhere."

Harry didn't answer immediately but eventually sighed and relented. "I still can't tell you everything, sir."

"Understandable."

"So...what do you want to know then?"

"Well, first and foremost, I am curious about the events leading to this soulbond's creation," her father said while cutting a piece of lamb for himself, "and I don't mean you, or that bond, wondrously chasing away hundreds of Dementors." Chewing his mouthful, then swallowing it, her father dabbed at his lips with a napkin before looking Harry in the eyes. "What were you doing outside, in the middle of the night, with a werewolf and a wanted criminal on the loose?"

Instead of answering, Harry glanced at her with surprise written all over his face. "You haven't told your parents?"

"Well...no?" She avoided his eyes and concentrated very closely on her leeks with hot cheeks and a deep frown.

"I didn't expect that. Thanks, Pansy."

Pansy just shrugged and resumed her dinner, ignoring his soft gratitude. It wasn't like she could go and blab out secrets like that at her leisure. Plus, she still couldn't really close her mind to him. If she had told, he'd surely have noticed.

She heard Harry take a steeling breath. "I guess I can tell you this. Pansy already knows and it can't be used against me or others anymore anyway."

Her father looked intrigued. "I'm listening."

"Sirius Black was actually my godfather and had been framed by Peter Pettigrew, who is still somewhere out there." He said it in such a monotone voice, Pansy could've mistaken him for Binns.

"Peter Pettigrew is dead, Harry," her mother said, looking and sounding as disbelieving as one could be.

Harry slowly shook his head. "He isn't. He is an unregistered rat animagus who hid himself as the Weasley pet rat all these years."

Her mother looked as disgusted at that as she had felt.

"And you know all of that because…?" her father inquired.

"Sirius talked to me about all of it that night," Harry continued to explain, though he couldn't hide a distinct sadness from his voice. "He and Remus also forced Pettigrew to reveal himself."

Her father appeared very invested in Harry's tale. "You saw him then? Pettigrew, I mean? And what does the werewolf have to do with any of this?"

"Yes, I saw Pettigrew and they all used to be friends in school with my father. Until Pettigrew betrayed my parents to Voldemort and framed my godfather for it and the murder of those muggles, that is."

Her mother's eyes widened suddenly. "Oh, yes, I remember...Lupin, Black, Pettigrew and Potter, they gave themselves some silly nickname or other." She then paused for a moment. "That...is quite a lot to take in," she then breathed out before taking a sip of her wine. "And all of this is the truth?"

"All of it, ma'am."

It was no wonder that there was this constant, underlying anger she kept feeling from Harry. Really, if she was in his place, she would have gone and killed somebody by now.

"Then I suppose we should give you our sincere condolences, young man," her father said seriously. "What a horrid fate Sirius Black has suffered. Innocently in Azkaban for all these years and now the Dementor's kiss...what a horrid fate…"

"Could you have saved him?" Pansy suddenly asked before she could stop herself. "He was family after all, wasn't he? Instead of me, could you have saved him?"

Harry didn't answer. Instead, he stared at her with furrowed brows, a clenched jaw and more emotion in his eyes than she had ever seen in them and that – that was answer enough.

Guilt gnawed at her upon realization and she hated it. She didn't want to feel guilty for his decision, but she couldn't help it and she glared at her empty plate.

"I'd still do it again," he finally said, his voice soft. "I hate that...I hate that I'll never get the chance to know Sirius, but...I'd still make the same decisions."

Pansy just nodded silently. She had so many questions, but she didn't want to ask any of them.

"For what it is worth, Harry, it speaks volumes of your character that you think so," her father said. "And this was a much more solemn and serious talk than I had intended it to be and I apologize for that."

"No apology needed, sir. You couldn't have known and I suppose it's only fair that you want to know me. I'm going to spend the rest of my life with your daughter, after all."

Ugh. She had to do her best not to cringe. Would she ever get used to that idea?

"Indeed," her father replied with a chuckle. "But tell me, do you have a favourite dessert?"

"Well, I do like treacle tart." His voice sounded immediately lighter.

"Treacle tart it is then. Biffy!"

Their house elf appeared immediately with a pop. "Biffy is ready to serve, Master Parkinson!"

"A slice of treacle tart for Harry here. He will be our guest for the rest of the summer holidays," her father explained, at which Biffy nodded enthusiastically, her ugly ears flopping all over the place. "Pwdin Eva for Pansy and Monmouth Pudding for Peony and myself."

"Yes, Master Parkinson, Biffy be making desserts at once!" the elf exclaimed excitedly and disappeared again with another pop.

"Let us talk about your second year then," her father spoke, addressing Harry again. "According to our dear Pansy, you were, once again, right in the middle of everything."

Harry chuckled at that. "I would prefer to be as far away from the middle of those...events, I suppose, as possible, but they just keep finding me."

"A sensible mindset to have, at least." Her father finished sipping his wine before continuing. "What happened in that year? What is the truth?"

"A basilisk, sir. I don't trust you anywhere enough to tell you more."

Her father nodded and rubbed his chin in thought. "A basilisk, you say? How come the students lived in the end?"

Harry shrugged. "Turns out that catching a basilisk's gaze indirectly only petrifies you. Like, through a puddle on the floor or a mirror or camera."

"And...you fought one? In the Chamber of Secrets?" Pansy asked with raised brows. It just sounded too fantastical to be believable.

"Yeah," he said with a shrug. "It actually got me, but Dumbledore's phoenix – Fawkes – was there as well, gauged its eyes out and everything. Fawkes cried on the wound and healed me. I'd be dead without it."

"Sorry but, I just...it's unbelievable. It's...it's like – it's not –"

Harry sighed and pulled the sleeve of his arm up and showed her a wicked-looking, circular scar. It certainly had the shape of a fang.

"That's where the basilisk got me. I'm not lying. If I needed to lie, I'd lie about other things and not make up this kind of stuff." He scoffed. "Half a year the school thinks I'm some kind of nutter anyway. I don't need to add to it. I just prefer not to lie. Kind of my problem, though, isn't it?" Exhaling forcefully, Harry shrugged, cooling off before his temper completely got away from him. "I hate lying and I hate liars. Ultimately, I don't care if you believe me, Pansy, but if you really insist, I'll show you the Chamber and the basilisk."

She pursed her lips as Harry rolled down the sleeve of his robe again.

"I would rather you stay away from there, my sweetness," her mother said warily. "It does sound terribly dangerous."

Harry waved it off. "No need to worry, Mrs Parkinson. I wouldn't make the offer if it really were dangerous. There's nothing down there other than a dead basilisk, that's all."

"Where is the entrance anyway?" Pansy asked, curious despite herself.

Harry chuckled wryly. "Myrtle's bathroom."

Her brows disappeared beneath her fringe. "You're kidding."

Shaking his head with a grin, Harry went on to explain. "There's a sink with a snake engraved on it. You have to say 'open' in parseltongue to reveal the corridor where you slide down."

"Huh. Who'd have thought?" Even her parents looked rather intrigued and surprised. Despite herself, she could also not deny the intense curiosity she was feeling. "I want you to take me down there. I need to see this."

"Fine by me," Harry answered readily. "At least you'll actually have the proof right in front of your eyes then." Before her mother could again voice her objection, he turned his attention to her. "And I promise, Mrs Parkinson, that there is absolutely nothing at all to worry about. I'll take every precaution I possibly can to make sure that the entire trip will be as easy as possible. I have a trick or two up my sleeve." Then, his mood turned a bit bitter and sad once more. "Besides, I wouldn't want to put Pansy's life at risk just like that. I had to make a choice and I chose Pansy's safety over Sirius's. I wouldn't want to waste that kind of sacrifice."

"Very well," her mother relented reluctantly. "I'll take your word for it. I could not possibly interfere from here once you are in Hogwarts anyway, can I?"

"I'll write a letter before we go and after we return, mother," Pansy promised.

"Please do," her father said earnestly. He looked as worried as her mother did and she had to wince, thinking of her late twin-sister Primrose.

"I will, daddy," she said softly, repeating her promise.

Her father nodded, albeit a bit stiffly, before turning his attention to Harry. "I would like to speak with you a bit more about this Parseltongue ability of yours before you return to Hogwarts. I hope that will be alright with you, Harry."

Harry shrugged. "Sure. There's not really a lot I could tell you, to be honest, but I'll try to answer what I can."

Looking positively elated, her father gave Harry a pleased smile. Then, Biffy arrived with their desserts, which they enjoyed with idle chatter. At least it wasn't that awkward any longer.

Walking around in her home with Harry Potter was odd. His head was swivelling left and right, taking in the sharp architecture of their home, the polished and clean, white walls, decorated with paintings and portraits of long-dead Parkinsons from decades and centuries ago, who kept greeting her whenever she passed by. She felt a lot of pride to call a place like Abaty Gwyn her ancestral home. Where the Greengrasses had Goldengrove, the Parkinsons had Abaty Gwyn; a place rich with magic, history and magical history.

"Abaty Gwyn means White Abbey in Welsh, right?" Harry asked her suddenly as she was leading him through the halls of her home and towards his room.

Pansy gave him a curious and surprised look. "You speak Welsh?"

He cocked his head to the side and looked a bit startled. "Actually...no, I don't. This is...rather odd. I have no idea how I could possibly know that." He frowned a bit in thought. "It could be something about that bond, though. You know, like sharing stuff one of us knows with the other maybe?"

"That doesn't sound half-bad, to be honest." She tapped her chin while considering the idea. "I'll tell my dad, so he will contact Dumbledore about it."

Nodding in response, Harry resumed his observation of her home. They reached the corridor leading to the bedrooms, hers and her parents' master bedroom included.

"You've got a, uh, nice home," he said awkwardly with a shrug.

Crossing her arms over her chest and being mindful of keeping a few steps of distance between them, Pansy gave a curt nod. "Thanks." She stopped when reaching one of the guest bedrooms. "This is where you will sleep," she said, pointing at the door.

"Right. Thank you."

They stood in silence. Harry was shuffling with his feet while she was glaring at the ground with her arms still crossed.

"How did your friends take you staying here?" she finally asked him since he made no moves to enter his new room yet.

"You didn't listen in?"

Looking up with a raised brow, Pansy gave him a quick shake of her head in response. "I was too upset with my parents at that time."

"You make it sound like it's been forever ago," Harry said with a bit of humour.

"Certainly feels like it. The moment this whole thing became public...it's been what? Yesterday?" Uncrossing her arms, she rubbed her face tiredly. "It feels like months have passed, at least."

"Fair enough." He sighed deeply and took a moment to glance at the ceiling. "Hermione told me to be careful around you. Ron was sure it would be some sort of ambush. Mr and Mrs Weasley were reluctant but understood the merits, though Mrs Weasley was a lot more reluctant than Mr Weasley. They just told me to be careful and to keep in contact. The twins held eulogies in my honour."

"Sounds about right."

"What about yours?"

Pansy frowned and she couldn't hide the worry she was feeling. "Aside from Daphne, no one's contacted me yet."

"Look –"

"If you apologize again, I will slap you and I won't hold back," she threatened while pointing a finger at him. "Ask Draco how painful that can be. It's only been a day." When he held up his hands in surrender with wide eyes, Pansy exhaled heavily and dropped her hand. She thought of all the other times he had apologized, of the anger and hopelessness she had been feeling since Dumbledore had explained the nature of this bond. She thought of Harry, of his situation and him all but admitting that he had sacrificed his godfather to save her. "I'm alive, aren't I?" she whispered. "You could have had your godfather safe and free, you could have had that Pettigrew bloke in Azkaban. Instead, you are stuck with me and I am stuck with you and you still keep saying that you would make that same bloody decision. Why?"

"I dunno." Harry shrugged and stuffed his hands in his robe's pockets. "I feel like absolute rubbish just thinking like that, but...you have your parents. I know you, I see you every day in Hogwarts. You had nothing to do with that whole mess and were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. When I had to decide…"

He was clearly ringing with himself and his words and another wave of guilt rushed through her and she hated this one even more than before. "It's fine. Just – I understand...sort of, I think."

Harry nodded but didn't look at her. She was glad as well.

"I didn't know you were Welsh," he suddenly spoke up, looking at her again. "The possibility that you aren't English never even occurred to me. Kind of weird."

Pansy blinked at him in confusion. "And that is important or relevant how?"

"It really isn't. Just a thought I had," he replied with a chuckle.

"Ugh. Have you finished your homework yet?" she asked him, eager to move on from the randomness of Harry's thought processes.

"Most of it, yeah."

"What have you got left to do?"

"Potions."

"Do you need help?" she offered. "I am just about average but could possibly be no worse than you are."

He scoffed. "Snape is just being a bloody git. I'm nowhere near as bad as he makes me out to be. You've seen how many perfectly acceptable potions he's banished for no bloody reason. Bloody tosser, he is."

"That's true, I suppose. But it also is kind of funny."

Snorting, Harry gave her an unimpressed look. "When it's not you, then yes, I can see how it might be funny. For me, it really isn't, though." After a short pause, he gave her a curious look. "Are your dinners always like this?"

"Yes?" It was a bit of an odd question, which was the reason why she narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Why?"

"It was surprisingly pleasant. A lot more formal than what I am used to, but it was nice."

"Oh." She cleared her throat, unsure about what to say. "You are welcome, I guess. I suppose dinner with your muggle family is as rowdy as I imagine the Weasleys to be?" she asked, not bothering to hide her distaste.

A humourless chuckle was her answer. "Something like that." Clearing his throat, he held out a hand. "Thank you for showing me around and for the nice chat. I'd rather we get along like this, so...how about we call an official truce?"

"Oh, bugger." Staring at his hand, she wrestled with herself.

Could she do this? Could she really be on...well, maybe not friendly, but non-hostile terms with Harry Potter? Her childhood friend's arch-nemesis? A half-blood? Could she really try and get along with him? Her parents were trying, more for her sake than for theirs. They wanted her to be happy. Could she be happy?

"You could try to not be bitter and angry all the time, at least? I doubt we are ever going to, you know...love each other," Harry said, sounding rather bashful, "but, if nothing else, I'd rather try and be friendly and maybe even find mutual respect for each other somewhere down the line. I'd rather not hate my life for the next fifty or sixty or hundred years."

"Oh, bugger," she repeated with a resigned sigh. "Fine then. I agree. Let us call a truce and not try to kill each other on sight."

Pansy reached out and grasped his hand, the faint sensation of sparks shooting through their fingertips and a warm blanket covering her body making her gasp. For a brief moment, all she felt was utter comfort and bliss and with all the willpower she could muster, she smothered the desire to hold on to Harry's hand and released her grip instead.

Who'd have thought that just holding hands could almost become addicting? Good thing that that was the last time she would be holding Harry Potter's hand for any reason for, at least, a very long while.

"I'll go wash up then," she said, ignoring her heated cheeks and slightly higher voice. "I'll be in my room and read. Call for Biffy if you need anything."

Without another word, Pansy hurried past an equally flustered Harry and down the hallway to her room, all the way cursing the bond. Holding hands was not supposed to feel like this.

AN: In case that anyone worries: the sensation they get from touching is in no way whatsoever coercing them or manipulating their relationship. It is entirely separate from their emotions and their relationship will progress naturally. The sensation they get from touching will play no further role other than highlighting the nature of the bond itself.