CHAPTER 13
PANSY honestly had no clue how she made it to Friday, the days passing into an almost predictable rhythm among herself, the rest of the Weasley family, Potter, and Granger, as she helped where she was able at the Burrow once her arm healed from its endeavors. She helped where she could, cleaning and assisting Mrs. Weasley in the kitchens during meal times alongside Ginny while her arm healed, trying to make the most of her time at the Burrow by getting to know George's family.
Ginny, much to her delight, had a wonderful little purple Pygmy Puff named Arnold that had, much to everyone's amusement, taken a far better liking to Pansy than he ever had to Ginny, and it was with great exasperation when Arnold refused to leave Pansy's shoulder on Tuesday night after second helpings of dessert, that Ginny only half-jokingly teased that she guessed the little fellow was hers now.
Pansy was seen often wandering the cramped but cozy home with Arnold riding on her shoulder, occasionally filling her eardrums with the sounds of his delighted trilling and squeals when she'd sneak him treats.
The Brennan's came by during dinner on Wednesday night and sat down to a hearty helping of roast chicken and mashed potatoes to deliver the news that a trial date for Antonin Dolohov was set for a month from now. Though in the meantime, the wizard was to remain under constant guard in the detention cells in the Ministry of Magic, with at least three Aurors assigned at all times.
Pansy had happily turned over her memories to Ollie that the Wizengamot requested of her in exchange for not having to appear in front of the jury who would sentence him to either life imprisonment in Azkaban or to suffer the Dementor's Kiss and suffer a fate even worse than death.
A part of Pansy couldn't care less what happened to Antonin Dolohov, as long as she never laid eyes on her parents' torturer ever again.
For the most part, Pansy tried to keep as busy as she could, spending most of her time over the next few days helping Mr. Weasley in his shack, surprised to learn the wizard had a fondness for Muggle objects, de-gnoming the garden and getting her revenge on a gnome that took a nasty chunk out of her finger, and finally, on Friday, the day of her date with George, she was able to return to work once more.
Pansy was now a regular sight at the Burrow, traipsing here and there around the Weasley's property and surrounding land. She tried to pay no attention to the hushed whispers and sneers of Ron Weasley that followed her wherever she happened to wander.
Pansy frowned as she stood in front of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes just outside the door that morning, her nerves frayed for reasons that she could not quite explain.
She found herself growing alarmed at how comfortable she was becoming at the Burrow, surrounded by the rest of George's family and his friends. Though slow to trust, she was beginning to make progress with Harry, Ginny, and Hermione, though Ron remained the constant chasm in her attempts to be nice.
Pansy sighed and tried to shove Won-Won out of her thoughts for now and exchanged a furtive glance towards George. She wanted to contain her worry and not trouble him with this, but before Pansy could stop herself, the question was ripped from her lips as if not by her own accord, as if some unseen magical force were willing her mouth to speak the words.
"Do you think Ron will ever forgive me for whatever it is I've done to piss him off, George?" Pansy blurted out of the blue as George made a move first to open the door for her. She did not want to tell him how nervous she was at the thought of having what was sure to be a difficult talk with Ron, and that was if she could ever get him alone long enough to utter more than one word to George's brother.
George shifted uncomfortably, and Pansy could tell that she'd struck a nerve with her question as he thought a moment on what to say. "I hope so," was all the wizard said to her. "You might have your chance to plead your case. Ron's inside now," he told her, motioning towards the window of the front door with a rather curt jerk of his head, eyeing her curiously, never taking his gaze off her. A lopsided little half-grin tugged the edges of his mouth upward. "As his boss, I could always make him stay in the same room and listen to you. If he walks out on you again, then he's fired," he snorted, finding it difficult not to roll his eyes at his quip, enjoying how Pansy Parkinson laughed at his joke just now.
Pansy's eyes widened at George's words, though she could see for herself as she slowly turned her head away from George to face the front of the shop's front door, Ron leaning against the counter, talking softly to Verity. She stiffened, however, the moment Ron sensed that he was being watched and the wizard lifted his head and turned to face hers.
Ron's face fell upon seeing Pansy standing beside George, his face flushing in anger as George did not give Pansy any time to think about fleeing the scene or letting go of his hand.
If anything, his grip on her hand tightened as he opened the door and escorted Pansy inside.
The young redhead's previously friendly smile as whatever Verity had just said to him now made him laugh quickly transformed itself into a loathing scowl as he sneered at Pansy, his eyes making a quick form of her in her robes.
George and Pansy were heading straight to some Muggle place that he swore by for his promised Italian dinner, followed by a planned sharing of one of Florean Fortescue's famous ice cream sundaes for after-dinner desserts after closing. This plan left her with maybe about fifteen minutes later this evening at five o'clock come closing time to dart up to her flat to change into something more appropriate.
She hoped Weasley would like the dress she picked out, a gift from Norah from a Muggle boutique a couple of months ago that she'd admired in the shop window for her birthday. She'd been hoping to wear it on a date with Draco, but of course, that little plan had ultimately halted when he'd dumped her.
Pansy curiously glanced towards George to gauge his reaction and was surprised to see his expression was impassive as his gaze flicked from Verity and then back to Ron.
She couldn't be sure, but she got the impression that George was doing some very quick thinking, his brows furrowed in thought and there was a placid look on his surprisingly calm features.
He straightened his posture and reluctantly slid his hand out of Pansy's grasp and stepped forward, ignoring Ron for the moment, and looking instead straight at Verity, who was watching the drama unfold with critical interest, the young blonde witch having sensed Ron's growing anger and Pansy's discomfort as Pansy seemed to be trying to shrink as much as she could into her magenta staff robes as possible.
She looked as though Ron had punched her in the gut, and like she was wishing that a hole in the hardwood floor would open up beneath her shoes and swallow her whole and not let her come out.
"Verity, could you come and help me in the back sort through the new boxes of Muggle card collections that came on Friday?" he asked her in a crisp, professional voice, though there was no mistaking the coolness in the wizard's undertone.
Verity dared to quirk a thin blonde brow at her supervisor, frowning.
"Now?" she challenged, staring at George in utter disbelief as the blonde cocked her head to the side.
She shot Pansy a look of worry that instantly made her feel grateful. It was nice to know that at least someone other than George and Norah and Ollie seemed to care about her well-being these days.
They might be the only ones, she thought bitterly to herself. She resisted the urge to scream in frustration, knowing that George was simply pulling Verity away from the front counter so she would finally have that long-awaited opportunity to talk to Ron alone without anyone else overhearing them.
"Yes, now," he answered in a tone that was almost bordering on cold, though the man's expression softened a bit as he turned slightly at the waist to regard Pansy.
He smiled, but his face hid his apprehension. Verity pursed her lips into a thin line, but after a moment, she reluctantly nodded in agreement and moved out from behind the counter and made to follow him.
Verity looked uneasily towards Pansy before quickly trailing behind George as he headed towards the back employee breakroom where boxes of their latest shipments were stacked in the corner, the products waiting to be unpacked and properly priced.
Just as Ron began to follow the both of them, George turned around and shook his head. Ron halted.
"Not you, Ron," George answered in a flat voice, his quiet and reserved tone sounding much harsher than Pansy was sure she'd ever heard coming from the wizard. He'd not shifted his eyes from where Pansy stood rooted to the floor as he'd turned around. "What Verity and I need to do won't take long, we won't need an extra pair of hands. Stay here and mind the front with Pansy. She'll keep you company," he said. "I need the two of you to watch for customers while Verity and I go through the boxes, Ron."
Ron frowned but assented and nodded. He valued keeping his job here, considering the joke shop was the one place where he felt as though he could always have a good laugh, though with Parkinson here, laughing was admittedly the last thing he felt like doing.
He would honor George's wishes, though he was becoming more apprehensive at being left alone with Draco Malfoy's slag. Ron clenched his teeth as he reluctantly forced himself to retrace his steps and moved back to stand in his original position by the front where he'd been animatedly chatting up Verity on what to buy Hermione as a feel-good present and what the witch thought she might like when Parkinson and George had sauntered in the front door.
The furrow of apprehension and alarm between Pansy's brows grew as she watched Verity peek over her shoulder one more time, a hand hovering on the doorpost's frame as she looked hesitantly towards her replacement, unsure of whether to leave her alone with Ron, considering his treatment of her thus far.
Verity wondered for a moment at the obvious growing bond between George and Pansy, her mind drifting to just a moment before when they'd walked in, George's hand enveloped around Pansy's.
Her coworker merely smiled reassuringly in response, however, and cocked her head to the side as a sign to show Verity that she was going to be alright with Ron on her own. Seeming at least a little bit satisfied, the blonde let the door to the back breakroom quietly close behind her and gave Ron and Pansy the time alone to sort through their conflicting emotions towards one another.
The heavy and uncomfortable tension that lingered between the two of them was undeniable once it was just the two of them alone in the shop. Pansy tried to bring herself to take a step forward towards the counter to see what she could do to busy herself in the hopes of temporarily avoiding the difficult conversation she knew they were about to have.
But her feet felt like lead blocks in her shoes, and she couldn't move a muscle. Realizing that Ron hadn't said anything, Pansy turned her attention back towards him, only to find he was staring at her, almost angrily, unblinking as he if he were in the middle of some thought she'd interrupted.
His lack of response irked Pansy, and she began to feel a bit nervous. Ron's expression never broke of contempt, having spent the last few days that Pansy had been a houseguest in his parents' home quite clear to the witch who he and Hermione and Harry were never on terms with, and now he was supposed to forgive her and accept her as George's girlfriend if their date tonight went well?
He could not help but scoff and roll his eyes. Pansy frowned, gritting her teeth together.
She'd seen George's brother fight alongside Potter and Granger during the Battle of Hogwarts, alongside the rest of their former classmates who were of age to fight.
She would never open dare to admit it, but she'd thought Weasley a capable dueler in his own right when she saw for herself how bravely he fought against the Dark Lord's wretched snake before Longbottom of all people had been the one to cut its head off.
Though even she couldn't deny there was a part of her that ached and hurt like hell to think that through her past actions, she would never have George's brother's good opinion of her, even if their date went well and she succeeded in proving her worth to the rest of his family, and Ron's friends.
Pansy picked up on Ron's hesitance, watching the tall red-haired wizard flick his gaze to the floor, pursing his lips angrily. It looked as though he'd had all of whatever he wanted to say to her planned out in his mind, but the moment he felt the burn of her gaze, his tongue had gone useless in his mouth.
Pansy saw him swallow down hard. She decided she would have to instigate this conversation and coax Ron into saying whatever scornful words were on his mind.
Best to get it over with, she thought bitterly, a horrible hollowness now forming in the pit of her stomach as she took a deep breath to steel herself, toying with a dark curl that had come loose from its bun as she began slowly, her pace an effort to stem the tears that were swamping in back of her throat.
But she refused to let him see her cry. She was not about to give Won-Won the immense satisfaction.
Ron stretched himself to his full height and looked the strange material of beauty, the object of his brother's affections in the eye, unblinking, a muscle in his jaw taut.
"Oh, there's a lot I want to say to you, Parkinson," he admitted ruefully. "Though none of it is nice, so I don't think I will," he angrily remarked through a tightened jaw.
Pansy's eyebrows receded onto her forehead and fought the urge to roll her eyes.
The truth of the matter was, she couldn't blame Ron for any assumptions he might have against her character. She knew it shouldn't come as a surprise to her, considering her past behavior towards him, Potter, Granger, all of them. Whatever George's brother thought of her was surely a far cry kinder than what Pansy thought of herself, she was sure of it.
"Go on then, Weasley, tell me the truth, alright?" Pansy urged. "If we're going to work together, then I think we need to clear the air, and I kind of like for us to at least try to get along while I stay at your parents' place. It would make all of this," she added with a flourish of her arm towards the shop, "a little bit less awkward," she admitted, her face twisting and contorting into a pained grimace.
Ron looked shocked, though less so than Pansy expected him to be. He was quiet for a moment, his expression solemn, as he appeared to be thinking over his choice of words.
It took him a moment before he spoke.
"You're a lucky witch, Parkinson," he finally said, at last, his eyes narrowing.
Pansy's eyes widened and she blinked owlishly at Ron, wondering if he was referring to George's newfound admiration and romantic interest in her.
A soft smile snaked its way onto her face as she thought of the trouble and effort George had gone through already to make tonight after work special for her.
She still hoped to be able to find a way to repay the wizard for his unfailing kindness, kindness, and affection she knew she did not deserve, but he wanted to give it to her, nonetheless.
For that, she knew she owed George and his family.
"I know," she admitted, her brown eyes sparkling with a gleam of hope as her mind's eye began constructing scenarios for how she hoped their date would go.
Their dinner would be superb, so would dessert, and maybe, if neither of them wanted the date to end, they could kill the time by taking an evening walk through Hogsmeade before all of the shops closed up, and if she was lucky, then George would kiss her goodnight at the end of it and promise to take her out again a second time. She could only hope.
"Lucky to be alive, Parkinson," Ron's angry voice corrected, jolting Pansy out of her nearly happy fantasy with a start. When she came back to herself and was able to refocus her attention on George's brother, she was not exactly all that surprised to see the wizard's expression held no kindness or even an ounce of forgiveness for her.
"Yes." Pansy quietly nodded her agreement. "I'm lucky that George found me, pulled me out," she proclaimed, leaning against the counter for support as she was beginning to feel as though her legs had been hit with a Jelly Legs Curse with just how badly she was beginning to shake now.
Ron lifted his chin and jutted it out defiantly.
"My brother's a good man, better than I am, in that regard. I probably would have just left you there," Ron acknowledged, almost meanly, sullen. "But that's not what I'm talking about, Parkinson."
His voice lowered an octave and a flicker of something dark passed through his brown eyes.
Ron swallowed a lump in his throat and with a glance towards the back employee breakroom where the door was still closed, as though watchful for any sign of George and Verity emerging, he hastened to make himself understood.
"The only thing that stopped me from wanting to just leave you there in the rubble myself that night to die cold and alone, Pansy, was seeing how worried George was for you, and my concern for my brother."
Pansy's mouth turned down in a frown as she silently considered Ron's meaning. Her expression fell, crestfallen, as she lifted her gaze and looked the wizard unflinchingly in the eyes.
"I might have welcomed death that night," she told Ron solemnly, surprised to hear herself confess the bitter truth. "I think it would have been a far easier fate than to live and have all of my life's mistakes thrown back in my face like this," she told George's brother solemnly. "My parents…I…I never got to tell them how sorry I was. And Draco, I was an idiot to ever stay with the likes of that... that—"
"Wanker?" Ron interrupted coyly before Pansy could finish her sentence.
She blinked, momentarily annoyed at George's brother's interruption just now, though some of the tension seeped out of her shoulders at seeing the faintest flicker of amusement pass in Ron's eyes.
"Yeah," Pansy heard herself admit in a flat voice, though she thought she caught just the faintest notes of amusement seeping its way unbidden to the surface of her voice, despite the seriousness of their conversation. "A wanker and a right bloody arsehole, Ron. I…I don't know what I did to deserve your brother's affections, but I'm not going to hurt him, I give you my word," she promised Ron passionately.
Her pleading dark eyes were so filled with pain that for a moment, Ron almost felt sorry for the witch. Against his will, the flames of the hot-fire seed of anger in his belly cooled a bit.
Reluctantly, Ron was forced to admit now that he was having a conversation with Draco Malfoy's ex-girlfriend, that Pansy Parkinson was not the same arrogant witch with who he'd attended several classes.
Before Ron could answer, their conversation was cut short by a couple of customers who came in. Ron gruffly excused himself and left Pansy's side for a moment to attend them.
Once they had checked out and left the shop did George's brother return his attention to their talk. Ron frowned, a look of shame settling over his pale features.
Abandoning the usual restraint that he had exhibited thus far in Parkinson's company while at the Burrow, he spoke up angrily since it was just the two of them alone right now.
"George stood outside of your room in St. Mungo's all night the night he pulled you from the rubble and brought you there himself, waiting for you to wake up."
Ron held Pansy in a steady gaze, a mournful frown settling over his face. Pansy exhaled sharply and shook her head at the vision that Ron's description was now leaving in her mind.
Ron continued, undaunted. He'd waited days to confront Pansy over her past behavior towards not only him, but George, Fred, and their friends as well. He wasn't going to stop until all of the anger was expelled from within him.
"Ron, I…" Pansy began hoarsely but she trailed off at the sheer look of anger that was now settling in Ron's dark eyes.
"You have no idea what my brother went through that night, Parkinson, not at all so don't try to pretend to," he hissed, gritting his teeth together as he spoke in hushed tones to her. He grimaced. He wouldn't put it past George to use one of his Extendable Ears to listen in on their conversation, or even Verity, the curious witch that she was. "Losing Fred like that, it's like…a piece of him died with him. And now, what, you're just…interested in him, because, what, he's nice to you in a way that bastard Malfoy wasn't? Did you have that much of a shite upbringing, to go around being such a bitch?"
If Ron's eyes had been daggers, by this point, they would have had Pansy pinned against the wall and cut in two.
Pansy was unable to summon her usual haughty demeanor that tended to serve as a shield to hide the emotions that were brewing just underneath the surface in the face of Ron Weasley's blunt allegations towards her. She flinched and looked to the left and right for any means of escape, suddenly wishing she were anywhere else.
Right now, Potter's best friend held more honor and bravery than Pansy felt she could ever dream of having. Her shoulders slumped with the weight of her past behavior towards George and everyone else he cared about, simply because at the time, it had been easier to make everyone else hurt than acknowledge her own.
"I wish I could tell you that you were wrong about me, Weasley, but I can't," Pansy began hesitantly, shamefaced. "Everything you've said about me up to this point is true, and even I'm having trouble understanding why someone as good and kind as George would be interested in someone like me," she admitted, beginning to play with the rings on her fingers as she bit down on her bottom lip and tried to think of what else she might say to supplicate Ron some. "I don't…have any defense for how I treated you and Potter and Granger during school, I…" Pansy hesitated just then, nervously raising her eyes to Ron, hoping that George's younger brother would grant her the chance to explain.
Ron said nothing, merely huffed in indignation as he leaned against the counter and folded his arms across his chest.
Pansy took that as her opportunity and exhaled a shaking breath before launching into her explanation.
She frowned and averted her eyes.
"Do you ever…was there ever someone in your life that died or…went away, and you were relieved that they weren't around anymore? Because of all the shit they caused and how awful they were?" she asked, and she could tell her comment had caught Ron completely off guard by the way he paled.
For a moment, Ron had no bloody idea what to say to her. What in the hell was wrong with Parkinson?
Why in Merlin's Beard would she ask him such a ridiculous question? It was bad enough that if their date went well tonight, then George would probably start officially dating Parkinson, and then he'd have no choice but to endure her company for however long the witch chose to stick around.
But what good did she think telling him some kind of sob story was going to be good enough to get him to forgive her? To trust her, perhaps even like her? Ron heavily scowled.
"No," he frowned. "Nobody in my family is like that, though…" he paused and shrugged his shoulders, looking towards the counter and beginning to fiddle with the fake Galleon he'd taken out of his pocket that Hermione had charmed when he and Harry were in Dumbledore's Army. He spun it on the counter for a moment and watched it spin until it fell flat before remembering he still owed Parkinson an answer.
"My Auntie Muriel, I guess, is kind of like the sort of person you're describing. She's a miserable old bat with nothing nice to say about anything," he scoffed. "Let's hope if you and George work out, you never meet her. Why the hell are you asking me this, Parkinson?" Ron furrowed his brow in confusion and studied the young brunette closely.
"I just…" Pansy paused, a thoughtful expression crossing her features. "Well, I thought…maybe you might understand…"
Ron had to resist the urge to sigh loudly and just tell Parkinson to come out with it already.
Why was she so hesitant to tell him why she'd been such a bitch to everyone in school?
Doing nothing but just standing here and waiting for Pansy to build up enough courage to carry on with her spiel was frustrating, but he managed to wait it out and refrained from making a snarky comment.
"I just thought maybe, out of all of them, you and George would understand." She looked up at him hesitantly. "Because you both were always…overlooked, in a way, Fred always had the spotlight and I don't think you need any reminders of what being Potter's best friend is like," she sighed in frustration and continued. "And…I feel glad that my parents are gone. They….weren't exactly nice to me, Weasley."
Ron stared down at her as the shorter witch looked back at him.
Her eyes were now glistening with unshed moisture that was soon to be her tears if she couldn't get a grip, and her lip, set in a pout, was trembling slightly. He hoped she wasn't going to start crying.
Dealing with Parkinson like this was not something he could stand for.
He'd just leave her out here if she lost control and would find something else to do.
Though as he thought about it, the furrow of confusion between his brows deepening, he thought he was beginning to understand why Parkinson might feel relief her parents were dead.
He couldn't say for sure how her parents treated her at home, but he'd heard Dad talk about the Parkinson's enough at the dinner table to know that the Ministry workers weren't kind. According to Dad, several employees in the department had witnessed Mr. Parkinson yell at or hit his wife on any number of occasions. Ron supposed her dad could have done the same thing or worse to Pansy behind closed doors. If he'd physically and verbally abused his wife right there in front of everyone, and at his place of work, no less, then what the bloody hell was Parkinson's father like behind closed doors? Pansy frowned.
"I guess I'll just uh…go straighten up the shelves," Pansy offered when Ron still didn't say anything and turned on her heels to leave.
"Wait!" Ron called after his new coworker, and before he could fathom what was happening, his arm shot out of its own accord, no longer taking directions from his mind, and grabbed her wrist.
Pansy startled, and instantly pulled her wrist away from him out of surprise and stared up at Ron's towering form with wide dark eyes. Ron was quick to alleviate her worries and raised his hands defensively, trying to show her he meant nothing by the gesture at all.
"I…I think I understand," he stammered, his cheeks flushing pink as he wasn't sure how much of what Dad had told them last night he could tell, but he carried on anyway. "I know this might be hard for you to believe, Parkinson, since I turned out to be so bloody fantastic and charming, Pansy," he shot her a lopsided half-smile, though it felt more like a grimace as he tried to make this conversation as light as possible, considering. "But was it really that bad? Your—your home life? Your parents?" Ron stammered.
Slowly, Pansy turned around and faced Ron with an icy stare.
"Truth be told, Ron, I was always a bit jealous of your family. Your parents never would do the stupid shit my dad did. Maybe they might even love you too much. That's a fine line, you know, Weasley, or it seems that way at first. Hard to tell when you come of age. My father took pride in telling me just how special I was…cuddled with me at night, rubbed his hands all over me in a way that I thought was love, at least at first. It started with my arms and then stroking my back. Innocent stuff, you know. Words of praise. He knew all the right things to say to make me feel valid and important, and my mum just sat back and let it happen. So no, Ron, I don't miss my parents much, but I do regret the last thing I said was how much I hate them. Despite everything that they did to me, they were still my parents."
She shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut.
"I just…I thought it was easier to project all my anger on everyone else around me than to let anyone know what going on. I didn't want anyone's pity or sympathy and I still don't, Weasley," she frowned. "When they were killed...Dolohov was cruel enough to extract my parents' final memories in their last moments and leave the vial on the floor for me to find when I got the owl and Professor Snape came to tell me that my parents were killed. Their house was burnt to the ground because they spoke out against the Dark Lord. Everybody else hates me, Draco was only apparently interested in me for my looks, and when I tried to get him to stay the night the Dark Lord thought he could try to take the forces, him and his stupid army, he fled, and left me alone underneath the pile of rubble to die that night." She looked away, a muscle in her jaw twitching. "No, Weasley, when you put it like that, I guess that it wasn't all that bad. I didn't bother attending the funeral. Why would I, when Dad used to sneak into my room every night, and put his hands on me in places where no good father should ever touch their daughter..."
She exhaled a shuddering breath and then continued, though her voice was trembling with emotion.
"I guess...it was easier for me to be such a bitch to people around me and not let them get close than it was to face the own hard truth of my life. That my life royally sucks arse." Pansy shrugged. "It's not like I had anyone left to make me feel bad about it either. Ollie and Norah didn't go to their funeral either, they hated them just as much as I did, I think."A bitter, morose chuckle escaped from the back of her throat. She fingered a lock of her hair that she'd let loose from her bun and played with the dark curl.
"You didn't feel guilty?" Ron asked, his eyebrows furrowed. "No one thought it was weird you weren't sad?" he questioned, his curiosity getting the better of him, despite his cautious nature telling him to still be wary of Parkinson, he wanted to know the witch's truth.
Maybe it might help him to understand her.
She frowned, thinking for a moment over her words. "I don't think guilt was what I felt," Pansy slowly replied. "And…in my way, I was sad, but not because I missed my parents. They never gave a shit about me except what I could do for them, how I'd carry on our family's legacy by marrying someone pureblood, and it certainly wouldn't have been Draco, at least not after the humiliations the Malfoys suffered. I mourned them not because I missed them, but because…I guess…I never really had them in the first place. I mourned my parents for what they should have been, not what they were to me."
Ron nodded. "I think I'm….beginning to get it." He hesitated, cringing as the words left his lips. "I'm...sorry, Pansy," he stammered, his tongue suddenly feeling thick and rather useless in his mouth.
Pansy seemed to shrink before Ron's very eyes as the weight of her confession settled beneath her skin.
"I…owe you an apology, Weasley," Pansy admitted. 'I know my sorry is no excuse for how I acted, b-but….if you're willing, then I'd love to make it up to you guys. All of you, your parents too, have been generous in letting me bunk in their home, and I want everyone to know that I'm not ungrateful for it," she said boldly, lifting her chin and jutting it out defiantly.
Ron nodded as regret seeped to the surface of Pansy Parkinson's brown eyes.
"You're the first witch George has really taken an interest in since Angelina Johnson, Parkinson, and Johnson was always Fred's," Ron murmured thoughtfully. "I don't want to see my brother get hurt," he added, the bitterness in his voice chilled Pansy to the bones, as she looked up at Ron in surprise and awe.
She quickly nodded, hoping to prove to Ron that he and the rest of his family had nothing to fear and that she, like everyone else, hoped dinner tonight would go over well, and maybe, just maybe, if luck was on her side, then she could finally have a shot at being with happy, with George, if he'd have her.
"I want to do something nice for him, for all of you," Pansy managed to gasp out in a choking-sounding voice. Ron's silence to her spoke volumes as he waited. She spoke now as if to herself and tore her gaze away from Ron just as the sound of the door opening caught their attention.
George and Verity stepped out, innocent expressions plastered all over their faces like Permanent Sticking Charms, though Pansy could tell that Verity at least, had been trying to listen in just now. Pansy thought she would be annoyed at her new coworker, but oddly enough, she wasn't. Maybe if Verity had heard enough, she'd not have to explain herself all over again and Verity had told George.
Pansy's expression began a mask of calm, though she leaned to the side to whisper into Ron's left ear.
"Not one word about this, Weasley, this conversation stays between you and me. I still want to talk to you when we get a second alone," she hissed.
'Yeah," Ron agreed, nonplussed, just as Verity broke the silence that now lingered in the front of the shop.
"Everything alright?" Verity asked brightly, her white smile conveying no relief, but instead worry as her worried gaze flitted back and forth between them.
George stayed silent, though the wizard's solemn expression was fixed on Ron as Ron decided to reply.
"Yeah," Ron murmured, tearing his gaze away from his older brother to briefly look towards Pansy for a moment. "We're good, Ver, George, we...uh...talked it over, I think," he said, thinking that perhaps for the first time, he didn't regret talking to Parkinson. Now that he knew the truth, she'd come from a horrible home and had never really had a good opportunity to express the emotions she was feeling.
Maybe that's why she paints, to let her art say what she can't in words, Ron thought to himself, remembering what Hermione had said to him in passing when she'd come back from fetching her art supplies from her loft, shortly after Dolohov broke into her flat to try to bloody murder the witch.
"Glad you made amends, Ron, Pan, hopefully, that means you both can work together now and maybe even become friends at the end of all of this," George commented, his tone almost sounding hopeful.
Pansy frowned, almost having forgotten that George and Verity had disappeared into the back.
Her cheeks flushed, wondering how much, if any, the two of them had overheard of her and Ron's talk.
She sincerely hoped their conversation had stayed private. She didn't need George, especially feeling sorry for her. Pansy quirked her brows at George and Verity.
"Hear anything interesting?" she asked, almost glaring at Verity as she turned her head towards the blonde witch, who was now moving to greet a customer who had just walked in.
If Verity had eavesdropped, she could at least do Pansy the courtesy of not discussing what she'd heard with anyone else. Verity peeked back over her shoulders and was smirking slightly, but the witch shrugged her shoulders.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Pansy," the blonde said in an airy, dismissive tone. "I didn't hear anything at all," she said, slightly teasing.
"I didn't think so." Pansy narrowed her eyes.
"Looks like you and Ron are friends now though," Verity called as she greeted the customer warmly.
Pansy and Ron both collectively rolled their eyes, Ron letting out an exasperated groan as he ran his hand through his thick tuft of ginger hair in shame.
"It's cute," George added, unable to resist adding his own two Knuts as he fixed Ron with a pointed stare that at first, neither of them knew what to make of.
Sighing, Ron turned away. "Don't you have ledgers to balance?" he barked out in a gruff hoarse voice, wanting to put the topic of him and Parkinson making amends well behind him and just move on.
If it was at all possible, George's smirk widened.
"Sure, I do, but you know I want to hear details, little brother," he teased, though sensing Ron's growing discomfort, he decided that perhaps that was a conversation best saved for later, and more to the point, George was having trouble focusing enough as it was, too teeming with anticipation towards his and Pansy's date later tonight after work to do much of anything else. But still, he had to try.
The work needed doing, and the sooner he finished managing the fiscal recording, then the better.
The edges of George's lips curled up in a soft smile as he turned to head back towards his office, hellbent on finishing balancing the ledgers if nothing else to keep him busy throughout the day.
Though every fiber of his being protested, wanting to stay near her and wanting more time to linger.
He hesitated, shooting an apologetic look at Pansy.
"I'm afraid that I'll be in the office most of the day. The—the ledgers, but if you or Verity or Ron need me…" he started to say and let his voice trail off as he watched Pansy quickly shake her head and began to move to help a customer who was looking to place a special order of Dungbombs as the shop was out.
She quietly convinced George that his work came first and that he was to attend to the more important matter. There would be time for them to talk later on.
"Go, Weasley, before I jinx you for wasting your time," she teased, though her expression was serious.
George begrudgingly nodded and disappeared to the back where his office was located and quietly shut the door behind him.
Though in his mind, as he caught Pansy staring at him, he smiled happily in response, for the first time since Fred's death, feeling hopeful that tonight would go well.
"Are we still on for five?" he asked her softly.
Pansy shook her head eagerly. She'd not been hopeful in so long that it felt good to have something to look forward to after work.
"No, five is perfect, as long as I can have about ten minutes to pop up to my flat to change. "Thank you, George, for all the trouble you're going to. For taking me out to dinner tonight." Pansy proceeded to eye George bashfully out of the corner of her lowered gaze as she quickly looked away.
"The pleasure's mine, Pan," he stammered nervously, blowing out a deep breath to calm the nerves and run a hand through his red hair that would be needing Mum's skilled scissors to trim it soon again.
Pansy watched as George disappeared from the front and into his office, shutting the door behind him, though not before glancing back one last time and shooting her a bright white smile that had her heart pounding loudly in her chest.
She sighed, an affectionate little smile snaking its way onto her features as she vested herself to remain in one piece as she set about placing the special order for the customer who now demanded her attention.
To her right, Verity was still animatedly chatting up the young wizard about Ollie's age who seemed to be taking an interest in the young blonde before Pansy caught a glimpse of the vibrant shock of red hair, and the burn marks littered on the stocky wizard's forearms and the tops of his hands.
It took her a moment to realize the wizard flirting with Verity was none other than Charlie Weasley, who was still in town for a couple of days.
From the sounds of things was summoning up the courage to ask the cute blonde witch behind the counter on a date to The Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer and a walk, knowing Verity had always had a fondness for Care of Magical Creatures during school. She let herself stare in amusement, but only for a moment as she finished ringing up her customer. She found herself eagerly looking forward to tonight.
Once Verity had delightedly accepted Charlie's offer of a date tomorrow on her day off and had turned away to see to her other duties, the two of them already talking about where they wanted to go for lunch, and what sort of celebration Verity hoped to have as her going-away party, Pansy's gaze turned distant and hung her head in shame as she spoke softly, lowering her voice so that only Ron could hear.
When she spoke to Ron, Pansy's voice was barely above that of a hushed whisper. "I want to help your brother, Ron, to do something nice for him. George has been so kind to me, it's the least I can do."
Ron nodded solemnly in understanding. "What can I do?" he offered, suddenly wanting to champion Parkinson's cause, now that he knew the truth of her home life and she had opened up to him.
Pansy raised her eyes to Ron earnestly, her face at once looking both hopeful and incredibly anxious.
"Help me, Ron, I...I have something in mind, a gift I think he's going to love, at least...I hope so, but I can't do it without you and the rest of your family's help, Weasley, and I don't want George to know," Pansy whispered, weakly. "And you can start by telling me everything I need to know about Fred…"