CHAPTER 5
THE loft above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was surprisingly spacious and comfortable. It wasn't much to boast of, but it was her new home, and it was her own space, hers and hers alone, no one else's, a space that she would share with no one.
True to form, it hadn't taken Pansy long to move her things from her old flat to the space above George's shop, and now that she was unpacking everything and littering the shelves along the walls with nick-nacks or various pieces of artwork and trinkets she had picked up from Knockturn Alley and Hogsmeade throughout the years, it was beginning to feel like home.
The next few days leading up to Monday, her first shift at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was spent making the loft more habitable, cleaning it, and rendering it exactly the way she wanted. As she worked, Pansy could not help but wonder what the coming months would bring working for Weasley and his brother, Ron. She thought she had seen the glimmer of intrigue in his eyes a few nights ago, and she was unable to shake the comment he'd made about her being worth at least a thousand Galleons when she had only half-jokingly mentioned going to work at Club Trinity over in Knockturn Alley if this job as his shop assistant didn't pan out.
If George was harboring some sort of romantic interest in her like Pansy suspected he was beginning to, she knew that look in the man's eyes, having seen it in Draco's several times before, would she constantly be fending off advances from her boss?
Surely, that was a distraction given everything that happened, she couldn't let take place.
There was work to be done, and she needed to keep her wits about her. She needed this job, and she could not, would not, let any kind of distractions get in the way, not if she valued keeping her job, meager though it was.
"Stop being so stupid, Pan," she told herself angrily as she gritted her teeth in frustration and shook her head to herself, swiping a curl out of her face as she did so. "George has run that shop now going on two years, I think. He knows what he's doing, he's professional." But why, then, was she so nervous? Why was she finding it so hard to breathe? Why was it that she could not stop thinking about him—Weasley, of all people! Pansy's conflicting thoughts were finally halted by a knock at her door. She very nearly jumped out of her skin as she looked timidly at the thick carved oak panel, dreading whoever was on the other side.
She found herself praying that George hadn't got the bright idea to come to visit her and pay her a house-welcoming visit.
Surely, he would understand how bloody exhausted she was, and her want of solitude for the rest of the night….right?
Exhaling a very, very deep breath, she crossed the spacious loft and opened the door just enough so that she could peek out into the hallway. She exhaled a sigh of relief when she saw, much to her surprise, the stooped and slightly hunchback figure of old Tom the barkeep who tended the Leaky Cauldron.
"Evenin', mum," he croaked in a reedy-sounding voice. "I've brought you your dinner," the hunchbacked bar keep announced, offering Pansy an awkward, toothy smile that Pansy wanted to crinkle her nose at in disgust but didn't.
She was far too taken aback and flustered to do anything except stare at the tray of food in his hands.
"B-but I didn't order any dinner–" she started to say, only to have Tom take a half step forward and practically thrust the tray of food at her chest, rather roughly. She staggered back, caught unawares by the forceful shove of the barkeep.
Tom, stooped over and old though he was, was stronger than he looked.
"Order came in from one of them Weasleys, mum. Dunno which one it was, but he paid for your meal, it's taken care of."
Pansy smiled, feeling a bit foolish, and opened the door wider enough to peer into the hallway to make sure George wasn't lingering at the other far end, watching the scene before him play out. He wasn't.
"Uh, oh, tell him…thanks, I guess, if he contacts you again to make sure I got it?" she stammered thickly, though it was a chore to force out the words with how her mouth had suddenly gone bone dry.
"Will do," Tom grunted and turned on the heels of his shoes to shuffle back down the hallway. "Is there anything else you need, mum?" the man bowed his head.
"N-no, nothing, thanks, Tom," Pansy stammered, staring numbly down at the fully-loaded dinner tray in her hands, still wrestling with her shock and unable to formulate a coherent reply in her mind.
Tom sank into an awkward little half-bow that she was sure was murder on the hunchback's back, judging by the way it cracked loudly, causing her to wince, but he said nothing and then left.
Pansy was glad to be left alone with her thoughts again. Gaining back her solitude almost felt like a victory to her. Looking around the silent room, she was glad it was hers and hers alone, and maybe it was a good thing she and Draco hadn't worked out. She wasn't sure she could stomach handling living in a space with him after how coldly he had treated her when he had decided to end things. That would have been more than Pansy could bear. She was grateful that George had been so kind to her so far.
She made a silent vow going forward to try to be kinder to the wizard, for his sake, at least, though secretly, for hers as well.
What she wouldn't give to be surrounded by people who didn't hate her, even if it was just for this one summer.
She ate slowly and tried to relax. After dinner, she undressed, slipped into the shower, and allowed herself to luxuriate in the warm and silky water, some of the tension dissipating from her body as the hot water rained down on her form. As her body calmed down, so did her reeling mind. She hoped that whatever the coming months would bring working for George Weasley in the man's joke shop, at least there would be work to do. She could stay busy during the day, paint during the evenings in her free time to try to make some extra money on the side, and her mind would not have the time to dwell on all that she'd recently lost.
Warm and content enough, she climbed into bed early, hoping to take the weekend to settle in before starting work.
Pansy had thought she would be battling another sleepless night, lost in visions of her parents' faces, and continuing to see Draco leave her alone under the Whomping Willow all over again, but Pansy didn't.
She fell into a deep and peaceful sleep almost as soon as her head lay back against the pillow. The witch allowed herself to fall into the first tranquil sleep she'd known in ages, and for the first time that night, she did not dream of watching her parents murdered by the Dark Lord, or the giant's club during the thick of the fighting coming at her, or Draco's abandonment. No.
She dreamt of George Weasley.
PANSY felt as light as a feather, not sure when the last time she had felt this happy was. Why was she feeling this way? Was she floating? A glance down at the ground confirmed that, no, she wasn't, but the warmth of her hand held by George Weasley's strong calloused grip had her feeling weightless, not to mention breathless.
She felt rather lightheaded and dizzy, if she was being honest with herself, though a part of her wouldn't trade the sensation for anything else in the world, much to Pansy's surprise and awe. She bolted upright from her sleep the moment George in her dream turned towards her to kiss her, and she let him, eager for the passion Weasley's closeness promised her.
Pansy gasped, searching for breath that simply wasn't coming to her lungs. The rush of blood to her brain as she sat upright in bed made her head spin, black dots creeping in at the edges of her vision and threatening to blind her.
Dizzy, staring straight ahead into the darkness of the new bedroom of her new loft, Pansy knew she was half-awake, but still half in the dream, one of many about the wizard over the last few nights that she had spent in her new home.
After a few moments of trying to get her heartbeats to return to something that resembled normalcy, the shock wore off, and the realization that Weasley kissing her was just a dream dawned on her.
Pansy swung her legs over the side of her bed, barely stifling a low groan as she looked at the clock perched on the nightstand by her bed. She had about an hour and a half before she would have to report for her first day on the job.
She was grateful the room was shrouded in total darkness. Somehow, she thought in a way, the pitch-blackness made her embarrassment that she'd been dreaming about kissing Weasley more bearable, sort of.
Though there was an illogical part of her brain that felt as though the walls of her flat had eyes and ears, George did live across from her now in the other loft, after all, and with just one good look at her, George would know about her dream.
Pansy angrily shook her head to herself, running her hands through her mop of curls.
"Stop it!" she growled, her embarrassment quickly giving way to fierce anger.
She stalked wrathfully towards the shower, exhausted and sore. She had to bathe and change and get ready for her first day of work, but even the idea gave her pause as her mind took her back to the dream.
Pansy tried to justify George's appearance in her dream as simply her overactive imagination playing tricks on her.
Weasley had stuck around in her thoughts like a Wrackspurt she couldn't swat as she had eaten the meal he'd bought for her from the Leaky and got her flat so that he had helped her to get.
She was going to be working with him for weeks on end. She had probably been wondering about that notion last night as she had drifted off to sleep, and George had remained in her mind when she dreamed.
Lost in her thoughts again against her better judgment, Pansy padded barefoot towards her closet, wrenching open the door and glancing at her many shirts, pants, and skirts, trying to decide what would be best to wear for her first day.
She stood staring numbly at her clothes. Thankfully, Pansy had calmed the worst of her shock, and her racing heart had finally relaxed a bit. Strangely becoming more and more comfortable with her mind's unconscious storytelling, she allowed herself to revisit the dream. She could almost feel Weasley's body next to hers.
This time, she imagined another long and soft kiss, this kiss putting the several that Draco had given her to shame.
Draco's kisses were always urgent, possessive, as if trying to hold onto something that he knew that deep down, he could never have. But George's kiss in her dream was tender. Sweet, even. When she blinked out of her stupor and came back to herself, she was surprised to find that she was breathing heavily and chewing on her lower lip. Her hand was curled tightly into a fist over a fistful of the pajama shirt she wore until a good portion of it was pulled tight across her abdomen.
Pansy let out a frustrated growl and angrily shook her head, trying to rid her thoughts of Weasley.
The man was about to be her boss, for Merlin's sake! She could not keep entertaining these foolish notions.
Forcing herself to return to the matter at hand, she selected a simple green silk blouse and black trousers. Coupled with black slip-on sneakers with no laces, she was sure this was a respectable enough outfit for her first day on the job. Satisfied with her choice, thinking it was respectable enough, she crossed the room swiftly to her bathroom to shower.
Once in the steamed-up shower, the shower itself felt heavenly, but Pansy could not truly enjoy it. Her muscles ached and there was a constant feeling of fear and trepidation over surviving her first day as the newest employee of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. She found herself praying that no one she knew from Slytherin House visited her.
She could only think of what was to come in the coming hours. Pansy furiously scrubbed herself clean, forcing herself to step from the hot steaming shower and into the cooling air of her loft, gritting her teeth.
You don't have a choice, Pan. She tried to tell herself. You took George's offer, now follow through.
Still, Pansy shuddered slightly. She wound the towel around herself tightly.
With deep, slow breaths, she tried to slow down the racing of her pounding heart, which was easier said than done.
For a brief moment, she wondered what Ron was going to think when George's brother saw her working for them both. Or as she liked to call him, Won-Won, his nickname courtesy of Lavender Brown. A pang ran through her chest at the thought of Brown, and she remembered coming across the girl's corpse, bloodied and mauled, a victim of the savage beast, Fenrir Greyback. She had no idea what had happened to the wolf, if the bastard was still out there, waiting to be caught.
She hoped the wolf was dead. She shivered and tried to shake away thoughts of the disgusting wolf from her mind.
You did what you had to, Pan. Now be strong. For you. For Weasley. Don't make George regret giving you this job or this loft. Weasley's counting on you, like it or not. So, what if someone from your House sees you working here? At least it's money, and it sure beats being homeless. Grow up. Get over it and get on with your life. None of that matters anymore.
The words in her brain were aimed rather viciously at herself. It was how she used to survive her parents' abuse by way of parental neglect. She would force herself to grow up, to stop being such a whiny baby. It was eventually how she had convinced herself to leave and rent out that townhouse that she was no longer in. Why she never went home for the Christmas holidays and preferred to stay at Hogwarts. Thank Merlin Professor Snape never asked as to her reasons why. She closed the door to her bathroom and padded towards where her clothes were waiting for her on their respective hangers hung up on the hooks of her door.
She dressed quickly, using her magic to dry her hair, and applied some makeup, most of it powder foundation and a little eyeliner. Just enough to make it seem as though she were putting in effort towards her appearance these days, that she cared. As she offered the girl staring back at her in the mirror a satisfied nod once she was finished, a tiny smile played at the corner of her lips.
Take care of yourself. Take care of Weasley, she thought as she nodded, sure of her advice.
At the very least, Pansy thought the beginnings of understanding were beginning to form within her mind.
She was beginning to feel foolish against her thoughts, unable to get the wizard who was about to be her employer out of her mind, to the point where she was now dreaming about him.
This would not happen again, she tried to tell herself. It bloody well could not. She would not let it.
Pansy resolved to fill her mind with the task at hand. Nothing and no one—especially not George—was going to get in the way of proving herself to the wizard whom she at once had almost been at odds with, and who had saved her life.
Once she had fully dressed and grabbed her purse off the coat rack that she'd propped up by the front door, she took a moment to steady her nerves, shoving her emotions down into the pit of her churning stomach and trying to ignore that her hands were beginning to feel a little clammy as she prepared to walk out the door, down the staircase, and to the shop. Once she left this room, she was, for better or worse, a full-time employee of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes for the summer.
She let herself feel it for a minute longer, allowing her heart to resignedly accept the fact this was her life now, and then shook her head to clear her mind of such unhelpful thoughts of George, and then strode proudly out of her loft, locking the door behind her and plunking the set of keys he had given her securely in her purse and headed down the hallway.
The rumpled bedsheets of her un-made bed were now left as the only witnesses to Pansy Parkinson's weakness, her thoughts of him. Pansy marched down the stairs and walked with authority into the shop, swallowing down past a lump in her throat as she was immediately assaulted with an almost blinding array of colorful objects.
Pansy could not help but stare, craning her neck this way and that as she tried to take in the joke shop's magnificence.
The door to the shop swung as it creaked closed with a loud thud that had her swallowing, in addition to the tinkling of the little brass bell above the shop. Pansy was sure she wasn't followed or that no one had recognized her entering into her new workplace, at least, she hoped not.
Her breaths caught in her throat at the magnificence in front of her. She had a hard time not staring at all of the products along the shelves. She took a small, hesitant step forward. Everything was breathtaking and marvelous to her in its vibrant colors. She asked herself why she had never come here before until now and kicked herself for her mistake.
She really was a stupid witch, at times. She assumed the shop wasn't open yet considering there were no customers present yet.
She did not expect to find George already there standing lax and grim altogether, his elbows leaning against the front counter of his shop, talking to a pretty witch behind the counter with short blonde hair, a witch who, she was pleased to see, looked to be about her age if not a few years older, looking to be at best maybe early twenties and talking rather animatedly to her boss, smiling softly.
A spark of hope welled within her chest. With this young witch here, maybe it wouldn't be so lonely, at least there would be another girl to talk to, at least until she quit. It was obvious that Weasley and his employee had been talking, and most probably about her, since their conversation went quiet as she strode forward, trying to keep her head held high, and her expression confident.
Though that was admittedly easier said than done. She could feel her hands beginning to get rather clammy as her fingers curled over the strap of her bag for support, something Pansy admittedly hadn't anticipated. As Pansy walked forward to greet the pair of them, George rubbed his eyes tiredly and smiled, curling his hand around a cup of steaming coffee.
"Pansy." George greeted his newest employee with a cordial smile.
Pansy offered a curt nod little nod by way of a morning greeting, though she was admittedly still groggy from waking up so early.
"George…." She began, then remembered she was officially on the clock now and to address him with the proper title. " Ah, forgive me, I...I mean...Mr. Weasley." She stammered, swallowing hard past a lump in her throat, mentally kicking herself for her error. This lack of attention to detail wasn't like her at all.
Thankfully, George did not seem to notice or if the wizard did, he paid her mistake-no mind. If anything, she thought she saw him flinch a bit and look uncomfortable, shooting an odd knowing look with the petite blonde witch dressed in magenta robes behind the counter, who shot her a bright white impish grin that Pansy could not help but return, despite her anxiety. Her smile was contagious.
"Just George, thanks. Mr. Weasley's my father," he joked, an obvious teasing lilt to his voice as he studied her carefully, rendering Pansy feeling as though she were suddenly under observation, which she did not like. "Did you sleep well?" George asked causally by way of a conversation starter, seemingly attempting to try to quell his newest hire's nerves, seeing how stricken Pansy looked, unknowing how it made her chest tighten.
Pansy gave a visible start at George's question. What…what on Merlin's green earth had he meant by that? Did he know about…her dream? No way. She shook her head to herself. Surely not. Her face flushed high with color at the memory as she tried to shake away the image of their kiss in her mind, wondering why it was that she'd dreamt of kissing the wizard in the first place.
It wasn't proper, especially not now, considering she worked for the wizard in question.
Best to wax and seal that idea off in her mind right now and not let herself revisit her dream ever again.
She recovered quickly enough, and gave George a nervous nod of her head, allowing a lock of her hair to tumble forward in front of her face, thankfully shielding her embarrassed expression from him and the witch.
"Y-yes, I did, thanks," she stammered, responding perhaps a little bit too quickly than she would have liked, and actively averted their gazes.
Her cheeks blazed hotter than any dragon fire could flame as she waited nervously for George or the witch behind the counter to say something. She fidgeted with the zippers on her purse to keep busy and avoid conversation. She had already decided over the last couple of days, since accepting Weasley's offer to come and work for the man, that she would be kind and gracious to George throughout her employment here at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, however long that might be, but she would remain appropriately aloof towards the wizard. Pansy was almost confident that would send the correct message that she was not interested in anything else while in the man's company, save for doing the job that George Weasley had hired her on for.
Honestly, she knew of no other way to put the man out of her thoughts.
She tried not to notice how George's gaze threatened to burn a hole in the back of her skull as she actively refused to look her new manager in the eye, or the amused smirk the blonde witch shot in George's direction now.
"Are you alright, Pansy? You're pale," George pointed out in a blunt tone, his words clumsy and blunt as he furrowed his eyebrows into a frown as he took notice of how pale the young witch's slightly olive complexion had gone or the sheen of sweat that started glittering along her scalp. Her fingers were practically digging through the strap of her purse, and he was tempted to smack the witch's hand away and tell her to stop it or she'd break the strap by the end of her first shift. "Here," he muttered, reaching into a white paper sack and pulling out a beigel, motioning towards a container of soft white cheese. "How about an onion beigel with some soft cheese to start your day right? My mum made them fresh this morning, she's always cooking on Mondays and Fridays," he offered, a kind smile plastered all over his face like a Permanent Sticking Charm as he held out the food on a plate to Pansy, all the while looking at his newest hire expectantly and waiting for Pansy to recover enough to step forward and take the offering from him.
"I…thank you, George. I, um…please thank your mum for me when you see her next. I-I'm still getting settled upstairs and haven't had much time to cook," she quietly explained, her cheeks burning in shame.
Pansy's expression was surprised and grateful as she looked at George with pleasant surprise as she shyly reached out to take the plate from him, popping a bite with the soft cheese spread already smeared on top, and fought back a moan of satisfaction that was now forming in her throat. This was easily some of the best homemade food that she had eaten in easily weeks, hell, months even.
She had not expected that Weasley was the type of boss to bring in food for his employees ever.
The thoughtful gaze with which Pansy Parkinson graced George was one that he knew he would cherish, staring at her fixedly as she popped another small bite timidly in her mouth and chewed, though he could tell by her expression the witch was in heaven. The edges of his mouth twitched as he fought against a smile.
Pansy ate quickly, wiping at her lips with the napkin George had given her when she was finished eating and forced herself to bring herself back to the moment, lest she loses herself in the wizard's surprisingly insightful dark brown eyes. Again.
"What's next, sir?" she asked softly, with emphasis on the 'sir.'
She thought she saw George roll his eyes out of the corner of her lowered gaze.
"Catch!" he muttered, and before Pansy had any time to react, she caught a wrapped package that was currently flying right at her face in mid-air and took her time opening the package to reveal a set of dark magenta robes, the same as the young blonde behind the counter wore. As she shrugged into the surprisingly comfortable and airy robes, George turned towards her and offered her another one of his trademark impish grins that for some reason, was making her feel rather a bit on edge. She felt…nervous.
She hesitated and took her time smoothing out the creases at the front of her robes, preferring to forsake the use of her magic as much as to give her hands something to do as well as avoid looking up at George, unsure of what his expression would hold.
"Lesson number one for your first day on the job, Parkinson, always know when to duck, you never know what's going to come flying at you. Sometimes literally since we allow our customers to test our products, or when the customers aren't happy, though we try not to let that happen, right, Ver?" George worked, casting a sideways glance towards the short-haired blonde, who smiled eagerly and nodded her agreement with her supervisor's statement of truth, tucking a stray wisp of her hair back behind her ear.
Pansy almost frowned as she noticed George's smile falter somewhat as the wizard's gaze flicked towards the front door, as though teeming with anticipation for something. Or someone, Pansy thought bitterly to herself as she realized with a jolt old Won-Won wasn't here yet. Or if he was, then he'd not bothered to show himself to her at all, which she wouldn't put it past Ron to be so petty.
"I've got to finish up supervising this delivery, but Verity here behind the counter is going to show you the ropes this morning," he added, flicking his gaze towards the front where a wizard clad in a dark blue jumpsuit was striding through the front door of the shop, several large boxes hovering in mid-air behind him as he walked. The man's expression was sallow and rather unpleasant.
As their gazes locked, Pansy thought she recognized him or at least thought he looked vaguely familiar, but couldn't place him at all.
She inexplicably felt a chill run over her and she sharply averted her gaze, returning her attention to George instead, who, though she would never dare admit it out loud to anyone else unless she wanted to commit social suicide, was a far sight nicer to look at than the rather plain bloke who was waiting for George to sign the release form, rather impatiently.
She forced her mind to think of other things. Again, Pansy could not help but wonder at the subdued nature of George's demeanor as she strode around the front counter, letting George show her where she could put her purse, under the counter beneath the register, and showed her the employee break room in the back, complete with a cooker and a fridge where she could store her lunch to keep it cold until it came time to take her lunch breaks. She'd not bothered to pack one, at least for today, choosing to follow her Nana's sage advice. Never take your lunch on the first day of a job, Pan, her grandmother had told her the moment that Pansy had turned seventeen.
This was, of course, shortly before her kind and beloved sweet Nana had died of a nasty heart attack about three months after that when she'd gotten the news that Pansy's parents had been personally murdered by the Dark Lord himself.
Not that she expected Verity would necessarily want to have lunch with her today, though depending on where everyone liked to go to lunch and depended on the schedule, and how busy the shop was when the time came for them to go on lunch.
Pansy was jolted from her thoughts as George moved to stand directly in front of the blonde. The young blonde behind the counter was busy stacking packages of what looked to be new jars of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder when George cleared his throat.
"Verity, meet Pansy, if you two don't already know each other from somewhere else. Ver, I'm turning our new recruit over to you," George commented in a jokingly stern voice and gave the petite short haired-blonde with the elfin-like delicate features behind the counter a mock salute and a rather dazzling white smile meant to charm. "Teach her the ropes, what's expected of your position, and if you have time today, take her to lunch, maybe over to The Hopping Pot if the Leaky's too busy. I ate there last week, their food is decent enough," he offered kindly, flicking his gaze from Verity to Pansy, no doubt to study both his employees' reactions.
The short-haired blonde who Pansy now knew was named Verity looked up from her sorting of the Instant Peruvian Darkness Powder containers and smiled welcomingly towards Pansy, causing her to feel instantly relieved, hoping she could find a friend here.
"Yes, Mr. Weasley," she chirped in a bright jovial tone, and with the reassurance that his new hire would be well taken care of, George turned away to finish signing for the delivery, leaving Verity to teach Pansy the ropes. "Boy, am I glad to see you! It's been really busy here now that school's about to let out, I thought he'd never hire more help! Did Mr. Weasley explain to you how the shop works?" Verity asked Pansy in a casual voice. She momentarily frowned and looked away when George had put a little bit of distance between himself and the other wizard who still, for some unknown reason, gave Pansy the chills, though Pansy tried to focus her attention on paying attention to the training she was about to receive, and not on the stranger in the dark blue jumpsuit.
Though she could swear she still felt the wizard's deep penetrating stare, staring through her, Pansy tried her best to ignore it.
Pansy shook her head. "Just that the shop opens up at eight, Monday through Friday, and no weekends." She offered Verity an easy smile that the blonde witch softly returned. "I guess it's up to you to tell me the rest," Pansy nervously chuckled as she took a lock in between her thumb and forefinger to twirl it, a habit of hers whenever she was nervous or thinking about something troubling.
"Okay, then let's take it from the top—" Verity started to say, though before she could launch into her explanation, the front door to the shop burst open with a loud resounding bang that made both witches jump.
Her heart thudding like a rock in a box, Pansy's head whiplashed sharply upward towards the source of the noise and felt the blood drain from her face as she found herself staring face-to-face with Won-Won. Ron, Ron, his name is Ron, get used to saying his name if you want to keep the peace around here, make this easier on everyone, she feverishly reminded herself as she bit the inside wall of her cheek.
She was sure that judging by the murderous look in the ginger wizard's dark brown eyes as Ron Weasley stalked forward towards Pansy, this morning could not possibly get any worse.
Pansy tried to swallow the self-conscious knot now forming in her throat, and she could not understand why she felt so nervous and out of place around Won-Won, of all ruddy people. Ron froze in his tracks the moment his wide eyes landed on Pansy, having previously flicked from Verity, who shot Ron an apologetic look and a slight shrug of her shoulders, and then back to Pansy again, blinking a couple of times as though the wizard thought his mind was playing a sport of his vision.
His gaze lingered on Pansy's, the ginger's pale features registering what Pansy could only describe as outrage after the worst of his shock dissipated at seeing Pansy. Ron's face reddened with anger, barely able to draw in a good breath through the stunning paralyzing fury that washed over him, rendering him feeling as though he had been Stunned or hit by a Flipendo Knockback Jinx.
It felt like all eyes in the shop were now fixated upon him, just waiting to see how he would react. Ron's lips curled upward into a twisted grimace, merely regarding Pansy contemptuously as he passed the girls by, and then stood stiffly in front of the counter, waiting for George to finish signing for the delivery of the shop's latest shipment, his back to Pansy.
Ron's withering glower as he moved through the room currently made Pansy feel about the size of an ant. She had not intended to cause him such distress, despite their history, and wished Won-Won would have had more warning for her presence there.
For a moment, her eyebrows rose high onto her forehead as she entertained the notion that perhaps George hadn't exactly been forthcoming in telling his younger brother that his former nemesis was going to be working alongside him these days.
It seemed that, despite her best efforts to make amends and start over with her life, she was doing everything wrong.
It seemed an eternity before George finished concluding his business with the vendor and turned back around to face his brother.
"Oh, good, I see we're all here." George almost smiled as he leant against the front counter, close to Verity, in a casual and relaxed manner, as Ron scowled heavily, his brows furrowed in rage, and angrily turned his head in Pansy's direction, towards his right.
"Yes. All of us," he jeered, rolling his eyes in disgust at Pansy and Verity. "Why is she here, George? Parkinson, mate? She...she shouldn't be here!" he asked hotly, his words blunt, making no attempt to conceal his disgust for Pansy from anyone in the room.
George squirmed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He had not wanted Ron to discover the identity of his newest coworker this way. He had thought up at least a dozen different ways to broach the subject with Ron this weekend when he had visited the Burrow, each one more unlikely than the last to receive a warm reception from his brother that Pansy was the new Verity.
George tried to look comforting and gave his brother his best, 'Everything Is Going To Be Fine,' smile, wishing that Fred was here.
Fred always knew how to diffuse the tension in any situation, no matter what. Nevertheless, he knew he would have to step up and de-escalate the situation before things could get out of hand. Which he suspected they very well might, judging by the wrathful look Ron was shooting Pansy. His eyes had gone as round and wide as a house-elf's eyes, practically bugging out of their sockets, and he looked as though George had punched him in the gut. While Pansy was looking like she wished the floor beneath her feet would open up and swallow her whole. The dread in Ron's tone was obvious as his younger brother begged him.
"George," Ron cringed, a desperate pleading lilt to his suddenly hoarse voice. "Could I speak to you in private for a moment, please?" Ron whisper-shouted.
Verity snickered all the while George tried to smile sheepishly.
"Of course," he murmured, noticing how his brother could not bring his eyes to Pansy, Ron's jaw set in a steely resolve of determination not to look. He nodded as though he'd known Ron would object to Pansy's employment here. "I….appreciate your concern, Ron," he acknowledged. "However, I've offered Pansy Verity's position as our new assistant, so I think it's best for everyone if you accept that fact right here and now. But if you still want to talk alone, I can spare a minute. Meet me in the backroom, Ron."
Pansy seemed shocked by George's sudden diplomatic, solemn demeanor. His authoritative tone made it clear that the matter would not be met with scorn. Pansy curiously watched Ron, trying to gauge Won-Won's level of contempt that Lavender's ex-boyfriend held for, but surprised herself when she found herself instead hoping for Ron Weasley's approval.
Though her heart sank to her stomach when all she saw in George's youngest brother was the grinding of the man's teeth.
Ron ground his teeth together in anger as he marched stiffly away from where Pansy and Verity stood behind the front counter of the shop and took the lead in heading towards the backroom. Pansy frowned as Ron purposefully jostled her shoulder, hard, on the way out, showing her without him having to say a word exactly what he thought of her working here with him over the summer.
George silently seethed where he stood, frozen to his spot, his brown eyes growing darker, almost black. He opened his mouth as if to say something confrontational and then decided against it. He thought perhaps such words were best meant to be spoken in private during this conversation that Ron so desperately wanted to have, away from Pansy and Verity. He frowned, pausing in front of the two witches for a moment, flinching as Ron slammed the backdoor so hard the door rattled in its rusted iron hinges. George sighed heavily and with a run of his hand through his ginger hair, turned towards Verity, who was looking worried.
"Why don't you show her the ropes, Ver, while I'll deal with this? I won't be very long. We'll be…in the back if you have any questions or need anything. I think, for now, Ron needs a minute or two to process this new news," he grumbled darkly, a shadow of anger flitting across his features. "Ron seeing you right now I think, would only be a danger to you, Pansy." He turned towards the blonde before Pansy could say a word, though, in truth, Pansy was much too flabbergasted to respond at all. "Try to ensure Ron stays out of Pansy's hair…at least for today, won't you? I'll do what I can to calm him down, but I might need your help on this…"
Verity solemnly nodded her agreement, her lips pursed in a thin line. "Yes, sir. Of course, I'll help you! I'll do what I can, though I think it's safe to say his mind is on…other things," she added after a rather lengthy pause, frowning as she looked at the now-closed door of the employee breakroom, a dozen thoughts flitting through her mind as Verity tried to imagine what Ron must be thinking. She flinched as she thought she heard the sound of something being thrown against one of the opposite walls and breaking.
"Merlin's Beard," George swore under his breath as he rolled his eyes "Ah, damn. Ladies, if you'll kindly excuse me. I—I need to go before Ron trashes the whole damn bloody room," George growled, his expression no longer looking jovial, but now spent.
Pansy inexplicably felt her heart tug at the frustrated expression plastered all over George's face, and suddenly wished there was something she could do as she watched George's swiftly retreating from behind the door, though she swore she thought the man looked back and smiled at her. Her chest tightened, much to her growing alarm and fear at the revelation that she enjoyed seeing Weasley smile, thinking he certainly looked a sight nicer when he did, much more refreshing than seeing him frown like she had the last few times they had spoken. She chewed on her bottom lip, contemplating whether or not it was worth it to try to help the man.
"I—I should go back there and try to help sort this out…." She said hesitantly, though Pansy frowned as she realized her voice lacked the conviction to sell the argument she wanted to make mostly to herself.
The blonde shook her head. "I don't think that's a good idea, Pansy. Let Mr. Weasley handle it," she sighed tiredly, fidgeting with her fingers. "Sure, you might be okay right now, but you might not be if you stand next to his brother." Verity offered Pansy a grim stare. "Nothing's going to be solved just yet anyway. We should do as he said and get to work. The shop will start to pick up soon, and we should take advantage of the quiet before the storm while it lasts. It'll help take your mind off...that," she offered, gesturing toward the door that the Weasley brothers had disappeared behind with a wild flourish of her arm, though Verity was still heavily scowling.
Pansy reluctantly let Verity show her the ropes as she launched into an explanation of how to help customers select the right products suited to the type of prank they were hoping to play, how to place a special order if the shop didn't have the item in question they were looking for, where to sign and receive the shipments that arrived at the shop on Monday's and Friday's and where to put the boxes in the closet until they could be sorted through and displayed on the shelves, how to work the register.
It was going to be a lot of work, Pansy realized, and wouldn't leave her with much time to ruminate on what she'd lost, which she was grateful for. Even still, as Verity showed her the ropes, more than once, she found her gaze flicking towards the closed breakroom door, her mind stuck on one thing and one thing only. Her new boss. She hoped that George could handle Ron's temper and that her presence here in the shop working for him wouldn't cause a rift between the brothers.
Her one thought as Verity spent the next ten minutes showing her how the shop was maintained was a simple but poignant one.
I hope leaving him alone with Ron wasn't a mistake…