CHAPTER 3
THIS was the second time she wished she would have just been bloody fucking killed that night, that when the giant's club as big as the Astronomy Tower itself had struck her, that it would have cracked her ribs and broken her neck. Draco stood silently watching her, in his black attire he looked every bit the man she had fallen for over the years, yet Malfoy's face was so sullen and exhausted, it sent a chill down Pansy's spine. Behind him, what was left of Hogwarts lay in a crumbling, smoldering ruin, remnants of the dragon fire that Charlie Weasley had a hand in, by bringing dragons to help combat the fight against the Dark Lord.
His deep pleading eyes pierced her soul. Draco mouthed her name, but Pansy couldn't hear the wizard's voice. She longed to reach out, to grab onto his hand, to make him stay with her. She tried with all of her might, but the distance between them only grew with each of her attempts as his father materialized alongside his son, the patriarch of the Malfoy family pulling his son away by Draco's forearm.
Suddenly, he began to fade from her view as the Malfoy Disapparated from the Courtyard. She screamed Draco's name.
It was like watching him leave her and being powerless to stop it from happening all over again.
Pansy bolted upright from her sleep. Her lungs, starved for breath, gasped in the oxygen of the room, but it burned them with its purity. Drenched with sweat, her chest heaving, tears streaming down her face, she flung herself off the mattress and hastily began to dress, more than eager to get out of here. As she dressed, she blinked with disbelief at the clarity that filled her mind.
She knew then that she had been right to accept Weasley's offer, as unorthodox as it was, to move on with her life, from Draco.
Pansy trembled as she grabbed her bag off the chair by her bedside as she stumbled weakly to the door, afraid to hope. She clasped onto the doorknob like it was a lifeline, holding her breath as she twisted the gold knob in her palm. The air in her lungs burst forth in relieved laughter when the door opened, revealing the corridor beyond, which meant she was free to leave here.
The Healer had not bothered to lock the door. Cautiously, she stepped out into the hallway, to her newfound freedom, eager to get the hell out of here.
Like the ghost she was sure she had become, Pansy slipped quietly through the corridors of St. Mungo's, heading towards the elevator that would take her down to the first floor.
She hoped she could sneak past the Auror Ollie Brennan's wife, a pretty little slip of a blonde and something of an older sister figure to her, as well as her cousin, Norah Brennan, who served as the front desk receptionist, the Welcome Witch, without checking out.
The last thing she wanted was Norah asking questions about what her plans were next. The thirty-two-year-old witch was a friend to her family, and to her over the years, and even more so when she'd married into the pureblooded Brennan family, never mind her husband was the black sheep of the family and refused to follow in his twin brother Dominic's footsteps by becoming a Death Eater alongside their father, Jack.
She breathed out a steadying sigh of relief when the elevator doors swung open and the sight of the front doors was within her line of sight. She was so close to freedom, she needed to only reach the door before–
"Going somewhere, Pan?" came a curt, annoyed voice, a woman's, soft but assertive nonetheless.
Fuck. Shit. Well, there goes the stealth part of my plan, Pansy desperately thought.
Pansy gritted her teeth and halted in her footsteps, slowly turning around, her shoulders back, head held high, and bravely faced the St. Mungo's Welcome Witch, and her distantly related cousin. Pansy grimaced, looking somewhat sick as she now found herself under the scrutinizing gaze of her family member.
She could tell, her eyes making a quick sweep of Norah's posture, that she was pissed. Her hip was jutted out to the right, her arms folded across her chest, her clipboard she used to check patients in and out and ensure their visitors were directed to the appropriate ward and floor hovered magically in mid-air, just near the witch's left earlobe. Norah's blue eyes were narrowed and icy, and her lips were pursed into a thin rigid line. The blonde huffed in frustration as she reached up a manicured finger and brushed a wisp of her cropped blonde hair out of her eyes and scowled heavily at her.
"You didn't think you could just, what, waltz on out of here without coming to see me, Pan, did you?" Norah demanded hotly, an edge to her soft voice that had not been there the last time Pansy had visited her.
Pansy gasped. "I–I didn't check out? I–I thought I had already," she questioned, trying to give her response to her cousin the appropriate level of concern. "Didn't the Healer clear me to leave?"
Norah rolled her eyes. "Cut the dragon shit, Pan. You and I both know you were trying to sneak out of here. You know the rules, Parkinson, how many times am I going to have to repeat myself?" she snapped, the blonde's spiteful stare boring holes through Pansy, who all but squirmed under Norah's scrutiny. "Get your arse over here and sign out the right way, Merlin damn you, Pan, and yes, I do get a pass for talking to you this way, family's different, so don't give me that crap about treating our patients nice," she emphasized through her gritted white teeth, turning on the heels of her black ankle boots and motioning with an irate flourish of her arm for Pansy to follow her back to the front desk reception area.
Pansy bristled, grinding her teeth in annoyance. She was not used to taking orders from anyone, least of all her cousin.
However, right now in this situation, she was the Welcome Witch of St. Mungo's first and her cousin last. She supposed, just this once, she would have to give her cousin the accustomed authority.
Pansy saw no other choice but to dutifully follow Norah back towards her desk, where the blonde bolted around the piece of furniture and grabbed a sealed manilla envelope, and popped a bubble with her Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, a suddenly bored look in her eyes as she practically shoved the envelope at Pansy's chest.
"The Healer dropped this off for me to give to you," she explained in a bored, listless voice, sounding as though she were reading her words off of a prepared script. "One of the sheets inside contains a care regimen for your wounds as they continue to heal, and you bloody let yourself heal, you hear me?" she snapped.
The blonde's pale blue eyes narrowed until they were mere slits, reminding Pansy uncomfortably of a pit viper snake's pupils whenever her cousin tended to get in one of her protective moods like this one.
Only when Pansy nodded and swallowed past a lump in her throat did Norah seem satisfied and allow her stance to relax as she sat back down.
Norah fell quiet for a moment, studying the young brunette witch standing awkwardly on the opposite side of her desk with an interested gleam in her blue eyes that Pansy was quick to decide she didn't like.
The look was almost predatory in a way, and she feared what the nature of their conversation would bring up.
She wasn't in the mood for company right now, or to give her cousin an accounting of her conversation with Weasley, which Pansy had a deep-rooted suspicion in the back of her mind this was the real reason Norah wanted to see her.
Norah leaned her elbows up on the surface of her desk and rested her head in her hands, leaning forward in her chair, interestedly.
"So, how did it go? Weasley came to see you yesterday evening. One of the twins, I can never keep up which one of them is which," Norah asked, intrigued, as her gaze flicked briefly behind where Pansy stood to ensure she had no new patients to admit into the institution or visitors to direct. Seeing no one, she returned her full and undivided attention to her young cousin.
Pansy felt something ugly rise within herself and a solar flare of her temper began to erupt and come forth to the surface before she could stop herself from getting angrier.
"Tch. George, Nor. The only one that's left. The other one, Fred, is dead, didn't you know?" Pansy asked rhetorically.
Norah scowled and dared to raise her thin dark eyebrows at her cousin.
"I know, Pan, I'm the one who admitted him in to see you, or did you hit your head even harder than I thought when that giant whacked you a good one and knocked you out for three weeks, hmm? So? Are you gonna quit beating around the bush and tell me what George wanted with you? What, did he ask you on a date? Is it love?" she replied with somewhat of a teasing lilt to her voice, her face austere and calm, though a hint of a sly smile tugged the short-haired blonde witch's thin lips upwards into something that resembled a rather victorious little smirk.
Pansy stiffened, though it quickly became clear to her that she couldn't deny the obvious. George had been in to see her, and of course, Norah would have known.
At this point, she could only do her best to steer the conversation in a completely new direction. She lowered her head, unable to meet the blonde witch's eyes.
"He did," she grunted, forcing the admittance from her lips with no small amount of bitterness in her voice. "He…he offered me a job, Nor. I've decided to take it. I think it will be good for me to work through summer," Pansy admitted.
"Really?" Norah stared up at her cousin in stunned silence, her blue eyes brimming with awe and wonder. She'd assumed that Weasley had wanted to see her for reasons that were known only to him, but she had never anticipated he'd have offered her a job. She frowned. "Are you…are you sure about this, Pans? Weasley as your boss? You never really liked the family, did you? What changed your mind? You sure you're alright?" Norah asked, her voice growing soft and hesitant.
Pansy nodded. "I will be, Norah, I hope. I think so." She sharply turned her head away, wishing that Norah would just let her leave this place. She did not want to talk about Draco or George, not with anyone, not even Norah.
As far as she was concerned, Malfoy was gone from her life permanently and good riddance. She just had to keep moving forward. At least, it was easier for Pansy to continue letting herself believe such a lie.
It hurt less, and at the moment, she was desperate for anything to take the pain away. She'd been such a blind and bloody fool to love him. Pansy nervously peeked over her shoulder, making sure that she and Norah were well and truly alone before she answered her cousin.
When she turned to face her again, she spoke to her cousin in a low and hushed whisper. "I don't exactly want word getting around I'm going to be working there, Norah. I–I think I need some time, with everything that happened."
"But is that all of it? Umbridge, Pan, what did the Senior Undersecretary want with you?" she demanded, though the Welcome Witch seemed reluctant to push Pansy too far, recognizing just how emotionally fragile she was right now. Norah's pale face flushed in anger. "What I mean is, Pan, I–I get it, you're in shock, but if that miserable old bitch thinks she can come into your life and threaten you, then she's got another thing coming to her, I swear she's–"
But Pansy angrily cut her cousin off before Norah could dare say another word against Dolores Jane Umbridge and the power that she currently held over her and her family.
"Don't!" she whisper hissed through gritted teeth, looking skittishly to the left and right for any signs that someone had overheard her. "Someone might hear you, Norah! You'd let Ollie take the mickey for your loudmouth, Norah, Merlin's Beard, can't you keep it down?!" she snapped, glowering at her cousin with an incredulous look of disbelief.
Norah responded to her cousin's unfounded fears with a rolling of her eyes and a frustrating sigh as she quickly surveyed the interior of the front lobby, almost expecting and perhaps even half hoping for Umbridge herself to be sitting in one of the lobby chairs.
"You think I give a damn, Pan? Let the witch do whatever she wants to Ollie, she can't hurt either one of us. Ollie's an Auror, Pans, one of the best the Ministry has left, my husband can take care of himself, and I don't care for how many years she and my husband have known each other. She's not threatening my baby cousin with her dragon shit," Norah warned and carried on. "Rumor has it she's pending an investigation for what happened with Potter, and her crimes against Muggleborns, I suspect it won't be long now before she's carted off to Azkaban to a cell with her wretched disgusting name on it."
Pansy rolled her eyes and made to turn away once Norah had her sign her name on her chart, signaling she was in the clear to leave and made to turn away, though before she could, Norah's voice called to her once more, low and even, and almost pleasing in a way, for her to listen to it.
"If you ever need anything, Pan, you could always…" Norah hesitated, knowing her cousin's pride would be wounded just at hearing her offer, but she had to get it out. "You could always come and bunk on our couch for a couple of days. I'm sure Ollie would love to see you. You'd be welcome to stay as long as you needed to, you know that."
There was a little pang in Pansy's stomach that she desperately tried to push away. She swallowed down past a lump in her throat and could not bring herself to turn back around on her heels to look the witch in the eyes.
"That's…that's sweet of you and Ollie, Nor, to offer, but I'm sure I'm going to be just fine. I'll be fine."
From behind her, she heard the blonde let out an audible breath and the sound of her rolling her chair forward.
"If you need anything, you know you can come to me."
Pansy furiously blinked back against her tears. "You spoil me, cousin," she muttered in a cracked soft voice.
"Damn right, I do," Norah responded quietly.
Maybe she was hearing things, but Pansy could have sworn that Norah's voice was shaking now too. It was strange to think that her cousin was worrying about her so much, but the two of them were close, as good as sisters. She almost laughed at that, thinking how it was funny that it took such a desperate situation for her to realize it.
"So, I'll see you sometime this week?" Norah asked after a long pause that stretched on between them for too long.
"Yeah," Pansy answered in a flat voice. "You will, Nor. I'll see you around," she murmured, curling her fingers over the strap of her purse for support and kept her head held high and marched out of St. Mungo's without ever looking back.
Pansy was smart enough not to allow herself to look back as she walked slowly and steadily down the pavement on one of the side streets in downtown London, making a beeline for her new flat, eager to head for a place that she could now call her home. Though as she walked, she was having trouble getting George Weasley out of her head.
When he'd come to see her, it had been so…so….Odd. Yes. Odd.
She could find no other word to sufficiently describe the multitude of occurrences that had transpired since she had woken from her long sleep.
She took a lock of her hair in her finger to twirl as she thought through the 'odd' events of last night.
What was even stranger, Pansy thought to herself, was that it was not particularly a bad thing. The sun had already begun to set behind her, the sky taking on a darker hue. The air still felt cool, the breeze brushing over the young witch's smooth skin. Her gaze curiously shifted to the vast sky above her. The setting sun's rays had not yet touched this corner of London, the sky still held a light blue hue to it.
Pansy was having trouble getting Weasley out of her head. The man was like an invisible Wrackspurt that she could not swat. She scowled heavily, the edges of her mouth pinching down into a frown as she shook her head to herself. She had been shocked before, but now, she was beginning to be downright obsessed with just why Weasley was being so kind to her.
What was he after? She bit the wall of her cheek as she stopped in front of the front entrance of the old townhouse in which she and her flatmate lived. Was he pursuing her? Was that it?
She heaved a frustrated sigh and pinched at the bridge of her nose, squeezing the bone hard as though she thought she could squeeze out an answer that way, realizing she would not be able to get anywhere deeper into her analysis of George Weasley until first thing Monday morning when she reported to her first shift at Weasley's joke shop. A strand of hair fell in front of her face and with an irritated huff, she swiped it out of the way. The streets of downtown were relatively empty, as they usually were at this time of day. Children were back from school and most families were settling down to supper by this point in time. A pang welled in her heart at the thought of her parents.
She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head to herself, her mind-melting back unexpectedly to thoughts of George Weasley, how the man's brown eyes had been so…so dark, and full of hurt.
It wasn't even just the color that made them so dark, but what lay underneath them. Layers of hurt and so many things that were unspoken, begging to be brought forth to the surface. The relative blankness that Weasley had perfected in her presence when he'd popped in her room last night to see her seemed just a cover for the tumultuous sea of emotion she just knew had to lie beneath the surface.
Pansy was ripped from her thoughts when she heard her name being called and heavy footsteps approaching her from behind. She spun on her heels and saw none other than Norah's husband, Ollie, easily one of the most handsome wizards she had ever seen, making a beeline straight for her position. Goosebumps broke out over her skin when Norah's husband offered her a small sensuous little half-smile.
Though she'd known the youngest Brennan wizard now for a couple of years, the Brennan family being friends of her parents, the bloke standing in front of her never failed to take her breath away. Auror and natural-born Legilimens Ollie Brennan was pale, his white skin near the color of paper, high cheekbones, and an angular jawline.
His pale blue eyes were piercing and cold, his shadow raven black hair cut short and disheveled, always looking like it had a mind of its own no matter what he attempted to do to straighten it, just like Potter's had been. Pansy felt a shiver run up and down her spine as she stared at Auror Brennan. For a moment, she felt lost in the man's stare, unable to move or think, and waited for the man to speak to her.
"Pan, good, you're here, I was hoping to catch you before you went off somewhere," Ollie murmured by way of response, looking winded, his chest heaving as he clutched at a stitch in his side, looking like he'd run the last few blocks upon Apparating here, just to check up with her. "It's...it's good to see you," he heaved, his cheeks pink from exertion. "Norah told me I'd find you here when I stopped by to pick her up. I just thought you should know and hear it from someone that you trusted first, he's out, Pan," he gasped out faintly, and thrust a copy of this morning's Daily Prophet at Pansy's chest.
"Wh–what? What are you talking about, Ol? Who's escaped?" Pansy exclaimed sourly as she glanced down curiously at the newspaper in her hands. Her eyes glazed over the newspaper headline at least four times before it began to sink in.
She blinked repeatedly as she tried to process the news.
Pansy had never felt as bitterly cold as she did with every word that pounced from the paper. Not even suffering the company of the Dementors when they were looking for escaped convict Sirius Black had been this awful. Her fingers trembled with her lips.
'DEATH EATER RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE ESCAPES AZKABAN PRISON IN MASS BREAKOUT. SIX DEAD IN MURDERER'S WAKE.'
She thought it strange how such a simple thing as a bloody newspaper made her bones brittle and blood freeze to ice in her veins.
No. No way, I'm misreading this, I–I have to be, she thought wildly.
It took her a moment to find her voice.
"Oh, fuck, oh, Jesus, Merlin, he's escaped? How the fuck did this fucking happen, Ollie?" Pansy croaked as her frantic eyes made a quick scan of the article's story. Not much was said about the details of Rodolphus Lestrange's escape, and the article contained mostly a history of the known and convicted Death Eater, the death of his wife Bellatrix at none other than the wand of George's mum, Molly, and speculation as to where the wizard was headed next. Norah's husband watched Pansy intently with narrowed blue eyes and waited for the younger witch to find her voice patiently while he caught his breath. Her throat dried out as fast as the racing of her heart.
She looked up blearily at Auror Brennan, searching the thirty-four-year-old wizard's face for any hint of a lie, any clue that this was just a trick. But there was none. The Auror's expression was deadpan and serious. She found herself swallowing.
"You–your department will catch him, right? You'll arrest him, Ol? You...you've already got your best guys on this arsehole, right?" she squeaked, as visions of Lestrange's warped face began to flit through the front of her mind unbidden. The wizard would have killed her had it not been for Norah stepping in at the last possible second and saving her arse–yet another thing she owed her cousin and her husband for.
He nodded, a muscle in his jaw and behind his left eye twitched, though his expression was as grim as a graveyard.
"We're going to do our best, Pan. With…with Tonks dead, I've got to take the week to show my new partner the ropes, but that might take some time. Minister Shacklebolt's already got a team of Aurors hunting for him, we'll find him, Pan, I don't want you to worry about Rodolphus Lestrange," he grunted, sharply turning his head away, a muscle in his jaw twitching.
Pansy eyed her old family friend cautiously. Ollie was something of an older brother figure to her when she'd had no other siblings, just as his wife was as good as the older sister she had always wanted.
She sighed as memories of the married couple's time with her began to flit through her mind, flashes of fragmented images, like she was viewing them in the Headmaster's Pensieve back at the school, visions of Sunday's, when they'd come over for Sunday dinner, or how Norah would take her shopping every summer for her start-of-term supplies when Mother was too busy pulling double shifts at the Ministry to come, so focused and wrapped up in her career to pay too much attention to her daughter. Her face fell, crestfallen. That had all been before. Before her parents had been murdered, before Draco had broken up with her and left her alone by the Black Lake a few months ago, crying, pleading with him to reconsider, and the man had not listened to her. Before she had nearly been killed by a giant.
Pansy had been through entirely too much over the last three months alone not to be vigilant with her trust.
Her life was far too important to make the same mistakes that she had in the past.
Suddenly, Pansy could not bring herself to look into Ollie's face. Her brown eyes grew glossy as she stared into the distance over the man's shoulder, so hurt that her emotions wouldn't break through the walls she'd built up around her heart the moment she'd received the news that both of her parents had been killed.
"Why didn't you kill him, mate? You had the bloody shot, you were there, you–you could have done it, you should have killed Rodolphus when he almost went for Norah, fuck, Ollie, he-his bitch of a wife bloody murdered your partner!" she asked, the confusion and disappointment echoing in the man's ears.
Ollie's face fell, crestfallen, as he processed the young woman's words. She was right. Ollie could not deny the truth in Pansy's allegations. The weight of his failure settled over him like a dark raincloud. He knew he should have killed Rodolphus Lestrange before he'd gotten his wife out of the castle and to safety and then come back to help where he could. He'd been presented with the perfect opportunity.
His wand should have been the one to send the last and worst of the Unforgiveable Curses his way, his fingers should have crushed the breath from beneath Lestrange's throat. His blunder shamed him, though, at this rate, he could only hope that Norah's cousin could forgive him. Auror Brennan lowered his head slowly.
"You're right, Pan," he conceded. "I should have killed him. He ought to be rotting beneath the rubble, and by my wand," he agreed sorrowfully. "Please understand that he lives still only because I had to get Norah out." His light blue eyes pierced deep into Pansy's as he tried to explain his reasoning. "I…she's pregnant, Pan. Norah is going to have a baby. Our first," he breathed, running a hand through his jet black hair in a fit of nervousness and anxiety. "Two months along, Pan. Nobody else knows. You're the first person we've told, not even her mum knows yet," he quietly explained, sensing Pansy's face briefly soften as she opened her mouth to congratulate the couple. He shook his head. "I couldn't let her stay and fight and risk her and our baby getting killed, that's why I had to go, I had a choice to make, and I chose Norah's safety over killing Rodolphus, Pans, please try to understand. I'm always going to choose my family's safety over anything else. I need you to understand that, Pan. You're a part of my family too, you know, Norah thinks the world of you. You're like her sister more than her cousin, Pans," he growled, as a dark shadow of anger flitted across his angular features as his expression contorted, twisting with grief.
Pansy stared incredulously at the seasoned Auror, hardly daring to believe the words that were coming out of the wizard's mouth. She scoffed and rolled her eyes.
"Ollie, are you listening to yourself? Mate, you could have done nothing better to protect Norah, me, Tonks, anybody else you bloody care about, than to have killed him then and there!" Pansy snapped, her fingers curling over the article that Auror Brennan had given her, threatening to crumple the newspaper into a ball and chuck it into the nearest bin she found. "Merlin's Beard, Ollie, that stupid code your Auror Office lives by of not killing is going to get you all killed!" she shouted, her face reddening in anger as her temper flared. "Why did you even come here, mate, if not to do something about it?"
He scowled, the edges of his mouth turning down in a frown as he folded his arms across his chest and shivered against the bitter cold.
"I am. We are," he corrected, having the impudence to raise his brows at Pansy's current look of disbelief. "As I said, Lestrange is about to reach the end of the line, and fast. We're going to find him, Pan, and capture him. He won't be getting away this time," he threatened, his fingers curling over the handle of his wand, a murderous expression flitting through his blue eyes before it vanished, just as quickly as it had come as he shook his head to himself. "I just thought…you should hear the news from me first, from someone you trusted, rather than someone else. I care about you."
Pansy grunted as she stared down at the copy of this morning's Daily Prophet a few more minutes before looking up at her cousin's husband again, with an impassive expression plastered all over her face, purposefully keeping her mind closed off and blank of all thoughts so the Legilimens couldn't dip into her mind.
"Can I have this, Ollie?" she asked, to which Ollie nodded.
"Sure thing, Pan," he murmured, and Pansy allowed the faintest ghost of an affectionate smile to flit across her lips as she made to turn away, fumbling in one of the compartments of her purse for her copy of the townhouse's keys to unlock the door.
"Thanks."
"See you Sunday," he muttered and turned on his heels and Disapparated, the loud familiar cracking sound that never failed to sound like a Muggle car backfiring always making her jump. The witch's discomfort on the topic of Rodolphus Lestrange's escape was obvious and Ollie did not want to push his wife's cousin for a reaction right now.
She huffed in irritation and read the article multiple times as she stood on the stoop of the house. She stuck to the parts about the escape, the Healer he'd killed, two security guards, one of the guards had been found stripped of his uniform, with Lestrange's tattered prison clothes on top of him. It was suspected he had dressed in the guard's clothing and simply walked right out the front doors of the massive fortress.
"Fuck me, could this day get any worse?" she whisper hissed through gritted teeth, the curse escaping her lips before she could stop herself from saying it, as a chill went down her spine as she stood at the front door, too nervous to go in.
The thought that Rodolphus Lestrange was out there somewhere free to do what he wanted, free to kill again, was utterly terrifying. She wondered if Weasley knew the news. Pansy could only imagine the horror he would bring down on countless people. Pansy ground her teeth in annoyance and determination as she peeked over her shoulder as she slid her house key into the lock. Ever since walking home from St. Mungo's, she seemed to have this strong feeling she was being watched.
It was an uneasy feeling, one she was too embarrassed to share. Surely, she was just being bloody ridiculous, right?
It was just because the news of Lestrange's escape had stuck with her, and was frightening her if Pansy was being honest with herself. Despite Ollie's seemingly kind words and the reassurance that the Auror Department was doing everything in their power to apprehend Lestrange, she continued to feel put off by the whole exchange.
She wished she could trust the wizard at his word. Now, as she gazed out over the dark landscape, she saw nothing, not a single person in sight, but she felt eyes on her. It was getting darker out, anyone could be hiding out there, waiting for her, watching her. She shook her head and let out a deep breath of aggravation.
"Get a Merlin-damned grip, girl," she whispered and opened the front door to step inside.
She was being utterly foolish. This wasn't one of those cheap Muggle horror movies she was watching on her weekends. This was real life and things like that never happened in real life. She entered the house and sighed, taking off her jacket and setting her purse on the coat rack that was just behind the front door.
"Cate? You here? I'm home!" she called and shut the door. She frowned as she noted the darkness of the place and utter quiet. It wasn't totally strange. Cate, no doubt, was out with friends on her night off, she tried to tell herself.
Her blood froze in her veins as she walked towards the kitchen and peeked in the room that Pansy knew had been Cate's. There was no sign of her flatmate or her things. A wave of cold dread washed over her and settled in the pit of her churning stomach as she realized that her flatmate had moved out and hadn't bothered to drop her a note via a Patronus or even a letter by owl post.
Cate was just…gone, like a fucking ghost. An envelope on the counter offered a half-hearted apology for not providing any notice, but her job as a Curse Breaker for Gringotts was temporarily requiring her to relocate to Egypt for the summer, and her half of bills for the week with which to pay their landlord.
At least the witch had been decent enough to leave that much.
Pansy swore under her breath as she came to the understanding that her flatmate had probably been planning this for some time. Her heart sank and dropped to her stomach at just the notion.
Suddenly, breathing felt like too much of an effort and she splayed her palms against the cracked granite countertop, leaning against it for support and struggling to breathe slowly through her nose, trying to will her racing heart within her chest to relax somewhat.
This…this was what defeat felt like, wasn't it? Not only was she now forced to drop out of what remained of her seventh year at Hogwarts because she could no longer afford the tuition and board, but she would also be working in a dead-end job in Weasley's shop for the summer, and she still wouldn't be able to make ends meet.
There was a chance, a very slim chance, mind you, that Weasley would perhaps allow her to work a few doubles during the week, but no matter how much Pansy ruminated that idea over in her mind, it still didn't seem like it would be enough.
George had promised her the money would be good, but her pay for this particular townhouse that she had rented wouldn't be enough to cover the other half of rent, let alone buy food for the month, or have any sort of extra spending money she could indulge in Knockturn or Diagon Alley or even Hogsmeade or the cute little Muggle-owned and ran clothing boutiques that she had become secretly fond of, thanks to Norah introducing her to them and convincing her to look past the blood status of the owners.
The brief thought occurred to her that she could try her hand at painting again.
Even Professor Snape had commented on her work multiple times in the Slytherin Common Room when she would sit by the fireside of the hearth and allow the oils on the paint palate to come to life on the canvas, telling her she had a gift.
It was her dream post-graduation to own her art studio one day and make a name for herself by capturing the essence of her subjects' personalities when capturing their likeness, to see her name among the great artists of the wizarding world, such as Bimp, Oliver Cartwright, John Homme, and even old Leonardo Da Vinci.
Her parents, however, had discouraged the dream in favor of their daughter pursuing a career with better aspirations, such as any position within the Ministry of Magic when she left school.
She frowned at the memories of that fated conversation she would rather not think of and shook her head in frustration, trying to send the memory and her parents' harsh words away.
Pansy forced herself to think on the matter at present.
If she could sell even a few of her paintings it would at least buy her one more month's worth of rent. Hopefully, enough time to either find a cheap flat that was more within her price range or another flatmate, one who was more dependable and wouldn't bail on her. Then she could pick up the various odds and ends, all while praying her new job at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes made her enough each paycheck to cover the rent and the rest of utilities. Despite the cynical voice that chimed a warning bell in the back of her mind that told her she wouldn't have the time to paint if she planned on asking George if she could work doubles, she knew deep down, she had to try something.
Anything was better than lying down on her back and just numbly accepting her defeat. Life knew how to kick her when she was already down, and this time, she could not let it. She had already lost so much as it was. She frowned as her gaze flicked towards the empty easel that almost seemed to call to her from its perch in front of the hearth.
As she reached up a hand to tuck a lock of her chin-length hair back behind the shell of her ear, Pansy was reminded of his words.
There's a flat above the shop. We could work something out for a reduction of the rent if you were interested.
Her hand stayed by her ear as she stared numbly at the blank canvas in front of her. He lived there. George.
In the other flat above the man's shop. She was told by a few of her friends who'd frequented the joint when it opened that Weasley had lived up there with his brother ever since they had become successful enough with the business.
She tried to picture what it was like up there, in the loft all alone, now that the other twin was gone. A pang of sympathy ran through her unexpectedly by the thought of Weasley being alone.
A thought crossed her mind. What if she visited him and accepted the man's offer, would he think less of her for it?
Her eyes widened as she realized she was considering the offer.
"No, no, I couldn't…" She put her hand over her mouth as she tried in vain to silence her racing thoughts. "I could though, but…what the bloody hell would I say to Weasley when he asks?"
She began to pace a small line back and forth in front of the fireplace. She began to mumble under her breath, having a habit of doing so whenever she was nervous or thinking about something.
The witch's pacing was not fast but rather a stroll.
"For Merlin's sake, I–I can't ask this of him!" she snapped, throwing her hands out and gesturing to nothing in particular. She let out a heavy and frustrated sigh, stopping dead in her tracks, shifting her weight to rest on her right leg. She crossed her arms below her hammering heart, grateful no one was around to hear it.
She could not believe she was even entertaining the thought but then, she supposed desperate times called for even more desperate measures. She put her hand back over her mouth, and flicked her gaze towards her Eastern Screech Owl, a tiny little creature with grey and black speckles on its back and around its face, which she had named Ziggy, who was perching on its rod in his cage. "What do you think, Zigs…?" she breathed, though the only response she received from Ziggy was a heavy disgruntled hoot and a flap of his wings. Pansy in turn sighed as well, frustrated with her thoughts.
She dug her fingernails into her palms and clenched her teeth, frustrated with her indecision and hesitation. "Damn it, I can't even believe I'm doing this!" she growled, darting towards the front entryway of her darkened townhome, grabbing her jacket and throwing it over her shoulders, grabbing her purse, and flung herself out of the door and down the steps.
Her gaze peered out at the bustling cityscape of London, her eyes resting on nothing in particular, imagining the destination in mind, not even needing to think too hard about Weasley's shop. Pansy furrowed her brows into a frown.
Even if nothing came of her ask, at a minimum, she thought Weasley deserved to know that Lestrange was escaped, considering his mum had been the one responsible for topping the real bitch of a witch Rodolphus had married.
There was a very good chance that his family's lives were now at stake, no thanks to Auror Brennan's stupidity. No. She shook her head to herself. She had to go. Weasley and his family deserved, if nothing else, to be warned about this.
But that did not necessarily mean the conversation was going to be an easy one to be had. The thought of what he would say flitted through her mind, and Pansy wasn't sure she was necessarily ready to have this conversation, as it would mean swallowing her pride and admitting that she needed even more help than Weasley had already given by giving her a job.
"Ugh, I really am a stupid woman. A stupid witch with even stupider dreams who never learns her Merlin-damned place in our world," she groaned, peeking to the left and right to make sure the coast was clear and there were no Muggles about, before turning on the heels of her boots and Disapparating to Diagon Alley, to speak to Weasley and accept the wizard's offer to rent the spare room above the man's shop, if that offer of his was still on the table. At this rate, she could only hope so.
As she closed her eyes and vanished, she did not even have to actively think about the destination she had in mind.
She knew where she wanted to go.