A/N: I have just a few quick notes about the chapter before we get really into it. Things are def. picking up in terms of the plot, of which the story I am telling is far from over :) I never can* seem to write a short story, though not for lack of trying. Anyways. What I wanted to mention. This chapter contains mentions of attempted assault and violence against a particular character without spoiling too much.

I know that violence is part of the deal when it comes to Death Eaters, but if you do happen to be sensitive towards implied situations, then you might want to skip this chapter. That being said, please enjoy. I look forward to hearing back from you!

CHAPTER 17

PANSY was sure she had never been in a more awkward situation as she stared at the door, staring numbly at the space where George had stood not a moment before, seething at Draco's unexpected and frankly, unwanted interruption. She felt her hands go numb as she felt Draco slowly move towards her, watching his shadow descend upon hers as she kept her gaze transfixed to the hardwood floor. All she needed to do was turn, and tell him to get out of her life and don't come back, but she couldn't.

Draco could scarcely manage to get in a good breath of air. His entire body ached to rush to Pan after all this time and take her into his arms, now that the Dark Lord was dead, and the threat abated. It was clear Pan was stunned by his being here. He didn't want to overwhelm her more than she already was and would wait for her to turn around on her own.

He was sure her joy would match his at seeing him alive and well, knowing they could finally share in life together now that he was no longer tethered to the Dark Lord's service. Then, slowly, she turned around to finally face him.

Pansy's heart pounded painfully in her ears as she found her ex-boyfriend Draco Malfoy, alive and well, though looking like dragon shit, judging by the dark circles under his eyes and how thin and haggard he was looking. He stood a few feet from her.

"You're alive then," Pansy said in a flat, distant voice.

Her mind struggled to comprehend where he'd been the whole time that she had mourned the loss of what they had once had, where he'd been since the night Hogwarts had come under attack by the Dark Lord and the wizards' massive army.

There was a time she thought she'd have given anything to have Draco by her side once more.

Now, she just wanted him to leave, and for her to be able to go downstairs to see George. She wanted to take George up on his offer of lunch, to make Draco Malfoy a distant memory of her horrible life choices.

"I am," Draco answered softly, his pallid face painted with shame.

He'd dreamt of getting back together with Pan for so long. Now that he was with her here in her loft, together, the two of them alone as it should have been, this moment felt more like a dream than any of the fantasies that had kept him sane these last several weeks while he and his family had lain low in hiding.

Draco had hoped once Pan saw him, she'd rush into his arms.

But now, seeing Pansy's flat, emotionless glower made the awkward moment even worse, causing him to grimace. This was not at all the reunion that he had exactly hoped for. He was beginning to wonder if the beautiful blonde Seer who worked for the Weasley family was right, Merlin damn her stupid prophecies.

However, this was the course he had set himself on, and he was going to see it through.

Perhaps there was a way to change his fate. Though it seemed highly unlikely, giving the way Pansy was standing as still and silent as an owl, glowering at him with a look that could have killed him, with dagger eyes.

"I—I don't understand," she growled. "Where in the bloody hell have you been these last few weeks, Draco?"

"I-er…on the run. It's sort of a long story," Draco stammered, trying to offer a nervous laugh, but it came out as more of a flustered sigh. Pansy could only angrily glare at Draco, waiting for him to elaborate. "If I could have, Pan, I'd have come back, but my parents didn't want to take the rest, so we went into hiding. I wanted to write to you, to send a message, but I was never left alone. I only managed to sneak out today. My parents…er…sort of turned themselves in and are facing the entire Wizengamot as we speak, so I'm not exactly sure what's going to happen to us, Pan." He breathed out a heavy, scattered breath and ran his slender fingers through his thick tuft of blond hair, slowly lifting his gaze to Pansy, his pale grey eyes glistening with unshed moisture that would soon be tears as he silently begged the witch for her forgiveness.

Pansy's frown deepened, the furrow of confusion between her brows growing as her bewilderment grew. She shook her head to herself, trying desperately to send Draco's words off.

"But why?" she pressed, her expression not holding the renewed love and affection Draco had been hoping to find, but instead, a look of anger, annoyance, and bewildered indifference. "Why did you come to find me?" she asked.

It was then that Draco realized with a jolt that Pansy saw no reason for him to have sought her out here in her flat on her day off.

"I…well...I—I thought.." Draco stammered, his voice holding a slight stutter from his nervousness, looking longingly at the witch. "I hoped when I found you, that you'd let me explain, that I could bring you home, or—or anywhere you want to go," he offered, almost begging the brunette to reconsider her choice. "Somewhere….away from….down there, from here…" Draco meant that he wanted to take Pansy someplace that was more befitting of a pureblooded witch like her, not this dump. He wanted to find a pedestal that he could set her on, though Draco secretly knew Pansy would hate that.

He hadn't meant for his words to sound so condescending.

Pansy unfortunately immediately took offense to Draco's judgmental home and watched the way the son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy scrunched his nose in disgust as he looked around the worn but comfortable loft. She straightened her gait and regarded the wizard with an incredulous look of agitation.

"This is where I live now, Draco, my home. I work in George's shop. I'm comfortable here. I'm not going anywhere."

Draco frowned. He wasn't at all making the impression he'd imagined he would. He'd wanted to whisk her away with him, not succeed in making Pan even angrier than she already was.

It seemed that he was now doing everything wrong by her.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I…er…didn't mean anything by it," he begged. A horrible aching whelm flared to life within him just then. His arms ached to hold her, despite the venomous look she was currently shooting him that suggested Pansy wanted nothing more than to jinx Draco where he stood.

Pansy furrowed her brow as she regarded the wizard in silence for a moment who had ripped her heart out from her chest that day by the Black Lake when he'd ended it with her.

The same wizard who now dared to think that she would just up and leave her new job and George, for him.

"Did you think I'd leave George? This might come as a shocker to you, Malfoy, but I'm with him now. We're dating," she answered, her words sounding clumsy and blunt as she reached up a shaking hand and tucked a wisp of her dark hair back behind her ear, ignoring the smear of orange paint she'd just accidentally splashed on her cheek, much to Draco's awe.

"I…I guess I thought when you saw me, you'd remember what we had, that it was me you loved," Draco quietly confessed. "I wanted to come to find you, but I was never left alone."

He needed to explain to her why he'd sought her out. But Draco did not want Pansy Parkinson's pity.

He'd earned none of the compassion he'd always admired in the brunette.

"My only thoughts the whole time my family and I were in hiding were of finding you, apologizing to you, hoping you'd let me win back your love was the only thing keeping me sane." He fought against the tears that were now springing into his eyes. "I love you, Pan. Leaving you alone that day was hard, but I couldn't…have you in danger."

Somewhere deep inside Pansy as she struggled to process Draco's confession, an old raw wound wanted to scream at Draco Malfoy that if he had loved her, then he wouldn't have dumped her.

Part of her wanted to laugh in Draco's face, hit him, rave at him. There was even a bit of her that was fighting the urge to duel him. But then it occurred to her that Draco's reasons, or his actions of dumping her and then leaving her to fend for herself the night of the Battle of Hogwarts no longer mattered.

It was the thought of George waiting downstairs for her that settled her heart and mind.

She felt the assurance of a witch who had found all she wanted out of life. Pansy could understand, regretfully so, that Draco was in pain and that she would have to destroy the hope that had sustained the wizard for these last few weeks while he'd hidden from the authorities.

But her heart now belonged to George Weasley.

Draco had become nothing but a painful memory for her, one which now barely crossed her mind. In just a couple of days, she was happier than she had been in the last few years she'd spent with Draco.

"I-I was a wanker, Pan. A bloody Merlin-damned idiot." Draco shook his head mournfully. "I shouldn't have left you," he admitted, the regret that had been haunting his sleep now lining his face as he lifted his gaze to Pansy.

Pansy was quiet for what felt like several moments. She truly didn't want to hurt him, not if she could help it, but she knew she couldn't let Draco spend any more time hoping for something that he would never have again.

"Draco…" she began softly in a hesitant voice, and then looked towards the doorway, half-hoping to see George barrel through it before looking away and continuing. "I'm….I'm glad that you left me. I am."

Pansy forced herself to continue, despite knowing how her words looked as though it was enough to cut Draco in half better than any Severing Charm could.

"Why are you here? Why did you come to see me? What did you expect would happen, that I would just...forgive you, after what you did?" Pansy exclaimed in a slightly sour voice as she frowned. "You were the one that broke up with me."

Draco hadn't wanted to distress Pansy with the nightmares that had plagued his mind since that day by the Blake Lake, when he realized that she would be in grave danger, now that he'd sworn his allegiance to the Dark Lord and was branded by his Dark Mark.

But seeing Pansy now searching for answers, he knew he had to tell her the truth.

"Alright, fine, yes, I made a choice. I chose you, Pan," he shot back angrily in a clipped voice. His words confused her, and she stared blankly at him, her brows furrowed in thought. Draco breathed out a steadying breath and continued. "I couldn't be with you, not in the way you wanted. I…I chose that you should stay alive and not be hurt by whatever the Dark Lord would do to me if I failed him. I broke up with you so that you'd be safe. If he'd discovered how…how deeply I cared for you, or that we were together, he would have used you. He would have had you killed, don't you get that?" His stomach lurched to imagine what horrors Pansy would have been subjected to at the tip of the Dark Lord's wand, or any of his more sadistic followers like Antonin Dolohov or even Lestrange. "I couldn't let it happen. So…I left you," he admitted, his voice leaving his throat in pained gasps.

"You hurt me when you dumped me." Her troubled expression echoed her words. "I wanted you back then, mate. I wanted you to have chosen me." She shook her head, remembering the horrible pain she had felt at watching him Disapparate and flee the scene of the fighting with his parents, leaving her alone to fend off that wretched giant that had nearly killed her.

She grew silent, trying to choose her words carefully. When she spoke again, there was no bitterness, there didn't need to be.

"Don't you get it? There would have always been something else between us," she replied sadly. Pansy didn't think she needed to speak the Dark Lord's name, even in death.

Judging by the clouded look in his grey eyes, Draco completely understood.

Pansy's dark eyes were strangely enough filled with compassion as she continued. Draco grimaced, able to tell that the broken heart he'd left her with had since been healed.

"I…I don't know what it was that you and I had been then. Maybe it was love, I don't know," she acknowledged with a casual shrug of her shoulders. "But you never gave us the chance to find out." Her tone grew even more serious, and her facial expression became as grim as a graveyard as her hip jutted out to the side and she folded her arms across her chest. "What I do know, is it wasn't like at all like what George and I seem to be having," Pansy confessed.

She paused and thought for a moment about the words that she knew would crush Draco's heart and wished there was another way to let the wizard down as gently as possible without anyone getting hurt.

But there wasn't and so she forced herself to continue.

"I'm…glad that I was able to give you comfort while you and your parents were…away," she stammered as she spoke, trying to be kind to him. "I do wish you a good life, Draco, and the best of everything." She hoped for him. She did. "And I'm sorry that you came here today, Draco. But I can't do this. There's nothing for you here. I'm with George now, Draco. Because I want to be."

With those words, this time, it was she who broke his heart. Pansy looked towards George's gift she hoped to give him later tonight, all that he had done for her so far running through her mind. Nothing within her could imagine leaving him, not for him.

She turned on her heels and made to head back towards the canvas, the final few touches in her mind she wanted to make already taking root there. She picked up her paintbrush and her wand and spoke to Draco in a distant voice.

Her words were a declaration to George Weasley, though the wizard was not present in the loft alongside her like she hoped, she hoped it would get the message across. Because….honestly, Pansy knew of no other way right now.

With every brushstroke, she spoke.

"I think….that I might be…in love with Weasley, Draco, as hard as it is to accept that. I am. I've made a home here. He gave me a job when no one else would. I like him, and I can't imagine leaving him. I can't…put a name to what we share, and part of me doesn't want to if it will last, but I do know that right now at this point in my life, he's who I want," Pansy announced as she put the final touches on George's gift, taking a step back to admire her handiwork before covering it.

Draco could only watch silently, mournfully so, at the expression in the brunette witch's eyes that shattered him from the vision of the life he'd hoped to share with her, that they could pick back up where they left off.

It was clear she'd moved on from what they'd had the moment he had left her alone and crying by the side of the Black Lake.

Her heart did seem to belong to Weasley. Draco knew he'd given up his chance of winning the witch's heart back when he'd left her and walked away from the Lake without bothering to look back.

She was someone else's special girl now, not his. She belonged here, in this flat, in her job working for Weasley, if that's truly what she wanted to do with her life. This was her world now.

For the first time since his conversation with the admittedly strange but still beautiful Seer, Draco realized that Pansy wasn't going to go with him. He had made a choice, months ago, and the witch had made hers. Though his heart was now shattering into a million pieces inside his chest, Draco knew he could not ask her to come with him.

She would not leave Weasley or this pathetic little flat. He certainly couldn't take her by force. He'd heard Father's comrades and friends discussing forcing themselves on unsuspecting witches, but he had never approved of such vile methods.

He knew Pansy would hate him forever if he tried such a tactic with her, and would deserve whatever jinxes she would manage to rain down on him. Draco thought he would have to love Pansy Parkinson enough to give her up, to give up even the hope of rekindling the flame of their love. Her memory would simply have to be enough, forever. Perhaps it was the first step on the path to the honor and dignity he'd always wanted, the honor that would have made him worthy of a girl like Pansy Parkinson.

Fighting against the tears that swamped the surface of his throat that Draco knew fully bloody well would overwhelm him later, Draco lowered his head, assenting to the witch's request.

"Then…I shouldn't have come. I've got no good reason to be here, sorry I bothered you," Draco confessed, his features twisting with grief and anger, his entire body going completely numb at the heartbreak he now felt. He swallowed down past a lump that was now forming in his throat, and spoke directly from the heart, deciding to be completely candid with her. "I—I need you to know…." He faltered, his mind reeling with everything he wanted to say to her, that would now need to be left unsaid, forever. "That….that I'm sorry, Pan. For everything," he trailed off, unable to say anything more or less than those words.

"I know," Pansy comforted, suddenly sounding utterly exhausted.

Draco suddenly felt like an intruder.

"I think I should go," he said quietly, taking a long-lasting look at Pansy's bewitching dark brown eyes that had never failed to make him feel as though he were ensnared by them, caught in her trap, and she'd never even known it.

Pansy simply nodded her understanding, refocusing her attention back on her work, just then, there came a loud bang from the front door of her flat.

The noise elicited a startled shriek from Pansy just then as her hand shot to her heart and clutched at a fistful of her blouse. Alarmed, Pansy looked to the door to find none other than Charlie Weasley now standing in the open doorway of her flat, with George trailing behind, followed by Norah.

She forced her heart to calm down at the look of worry plastered on both brothers' faces, and the expression that was plastered all over her cousin's face wasn't exactly comforting to witness, either.

"What? What's wrong?" Pansy immediately spoke up, rushing to Charlie's side, seeing how the tall, stocky wizard clutched at a stitch in his side. Never before had she seen the dragon tamer in such a state of panic.

Something was wrong.

She reached out a hand as if to steady Charlie, but pulled her hand back, unsure if he would let her touch him, even now.

Norah and George were on the alert, as was Draco, his brows furrowed in contemplative thought, though she paid Malfoy no mind as he moved to stand beside her.

"I can't…" Charlie wheezed, his words forming ahead of his thoughts as his lungs burned, begging him to take in a breath of air. His fiery red hair was windswept and tousled, looking as though he'd run a good block in his haste to get up here. His brown eyes scanned the spaces nearest to them, as though searching for something. Or someone. "I can't find Verity, Pansy, did she come up here with you?" Charlie sputtered, almost afraid to speak the words.

Pansy's fear wound around her heartstrings. She opened her mouth to speak, but didn't get a chance as Draco was the first to break the awkward silence, exclaiming in a sour voice, "What? What do you mean, you can't find her? She—she was with me at the Leaky, we had lunch! I thought she left and went back to work, she wasn't downstairs with you lot?"

Draco stepped closer, certain he'd heard wrong. Draco felt his chest tighten at the thought of the Seer in possible peril, and if she'd known anything, then why hadn't she said a word?

Despite his disbelief of her vision she'd revealed, that didn't mean he'd wish harm on her or not, whether or not they one day wound up together. He exchanged a worried glance with Pansy and George both. He flinched at the slightly distrustful look that George shot him but had no time to dwell on it as he flicked his gaze back to Charlie.

"She's gone, Pan, I wasn't sure if anyone had a chance to tell you. I stopped by the shop to see if you wanted to go to lunch," Norah informed her when it seemed Charlie either lacked the strength to speak or perhaps did not want to voice that which he feared. The blonde Veela exhaled a shaking breath, stepping forward and holding out Verity's purse for Pansy to take, which she did with shaking fingers. Pansy stared down numbly at her coworker's bag, barely able to hold it. "Charlie found this by one of the chairs near the Leaky when she didn't come back from her lunch break and went looking for her. We think someone might have taken her."

The blonde's gaze hardened and became icy, her eyes narrowing to mere slits, reminding Pansy of the slit-like pupils of a poisonous pit viper snake as she rounded on Draco, who immediately cowered away from the truly wilting stare.

"Charlie told George and me that she went to lunch with you. She wanted to talk to you about something. You didn't see anyone...suspicious lurking about, kid, did you?" she asked, her tone sounding spiced and offended as she glared at Draco.

Draco pursed his lips into a frown, almost mistaking Pansy's nagging bitch of a cousin for Verity's older sister.

Both witches were blonde, petite, though Norah's hair was much shorter than Verity's was, styled into a textured pixie cut and suited the witch's elfin-like oval-shaped face.

Despite the intimidating look on her face, she was lovely as sunrise, even in the Veela's rage, and it pulled him off his fury.

"You think I did something to her? You think I kidnapped her, don't you?" Draco seethed, gnashing his teeth together as the blonde kept her manicured hand on the handle of her wand, which she kept sheathed in its holster around her belt.

He swallowed down hard past the lump in his throat as it hollowed at seeing the strange lightning bolt that turned Norah Brennan's icy blue eyes even colder. They were outrageously blue… Icy cold and dangerous….

"No, Mr. Malfoy," she spoke in quiet volumes that almost sent a chill spasming under Draco's skin at the listlessness of her tone. "I'm merely suggesting that you were the last person to have seen her, is all. If my husband were here, Auror Brennan would tell you the same thing."

Draco's eyes involuntarily made a quick scan of Norah Brennan's appearance.

Her face was paling in anger, though she carried herself with the air of someone who was an expert dueler, he knew the stance, having seen it in his Aunt Bellatrix and Father several times.

Though the Veela wasn't an Auror, she should have been, he thought bitterly.

Perhaps it was a side effect of being married to one for years on end, but she certainly looked the part in her black blouse and black pants. He cringed, feeling a sheen of sweat glittering on his scalp forming and sliding down the sides of his temple as Norah approached, slowly and calmly, carefully, slowly drawing her wand.

"I'm waiting," she whisper hissed through gritted teeth. "Please don't make me ask a second time, kid. I'm just like my partner in that regard. I don't like having to repeat myself, Mr. Malfoy. Did you, kid? Did you hurt that girl?" Norah angrily demanded.

She narrowed her eyes in despair and incense, a low warning growl emanating from deep within her that made the others now gathered around them flush.

No one dared speak. Not even Pansy could summon enough strength in her throat to speak out in Draco's defense. Her cousin's face was stiff, and all traces of softness now completely vanished.

"N-no," Draco gasped out. It was all he could say.

Norah slowly lowered her hand and let it fall to her side, away from her wand around her belt.

Only when she turned towards Pansy did Draco dare to let out an audible sigh of relief and slumped against the wall behind him for support.

Draco quickly realized Pansy's cousin wasn't even considering her anger towards him and took Charlie by his arms. He did not resist, not even when she snapped his fingers in his face, trying to break George's brother out of his hysteria.

"Hey. Hey, Weasley, snap out of it, you hear me? We're going to find your friend, I promise. Whoever took her, they need her alive. If they didn't, they would have taken her bag. They wouldn't have wanted to leave any evidence of her presence behind. He left it behind as a trophy," she predicted. "Which meant that whoever has her, they wanted us to know that she was missing. Which means that they're going to come back, with her in tow."

Norah tried to give Charlie and the rest hope through the despair growing within her heart.

She'd known that Ollie was close to finally tracking down Rodolphus Lestrange's whereabouts.

Bellatrix's husband was one of the last few listed on his roster to bring into the Ministry to set their competency hearings.

She wouldn't be surprised if this was all a ploy, a trap intended for her husband, to take the friend of someone close to their family.

It was her best-educated guess at this rate, that a Death Eater would have taken George Weasley's assistant.

Norah gritted her teeth and felt her hand once more drift to her wand, a horrible tingling numbness beginning to spread to life as a horrible itch throughout her entire body.

Suddenly, it no longer mattered to her that she was two months pregnant.

With Ollie's efforts focused now on escorting the Malfoy family to their home following the conclusion of the trial, if whoever had taken the witch in broad daylight reappeared, she silently vowed to herself that it would be up to her to get her back.

She wanted this. The beauty of vengeance. She owed Dolohov and Lestrange personally for almost killing her the night of the Battle of Hogwarts.

For nearly killing her and robbing her of the news that Ollie, after over a year and a half of them trying for a child, was going to become a father.

Dolohov had been taken care of, but Rodolphus Lestrange was another monster entirely, and he was hers.

Norah fell silent and flicked her gaze towards Charlie Weasley.

The slightly older witch couldn't help but see the thin thread of stability onto which the kid was clinging. He cared for that witch, she could see it in his brown eyes. She couldn't even imagine the dark abyss she would plummet into if something ever happened to Ollie, or Pansy and knew the fear that now was threatening to consume him entirely.

If she could, she would magic the girl, Verity, she thought her name was, into Charlie's arms right then and there.

But as it was, all she could do now was help everyone here hold fast to the small shred of faith and hope that was now failing them all.

"She's alright," Norah tried to encourage them. "You lot have to believe that. She has to be." She tried to make herself rely on the same words that she spoke to Pan and her friends.

"What if we can't find her?" Her cousin spoke up in a small voice that for a moment, was almost childlike, and took Norah back to the days when she used to babysit Pansy for her parents. Pansy was now staring at Norah as if she were seeing her clearly for the first time since Charlie and the rest of them had burst into her flat uninvited and unannounced with the grim news that Verity Raywood had seemingly been taken.

Norah covered the few paces it took and squeezed her cousin's shoulder, taking her hand.

"Listen to me, Pan." Norah stared earnestly into her cousin's pained eyes, now glistening with what would soon be tears if she couldn't control herself. "I will find your friend. I know this sort of responsibility is usually my husband's job, but I'm the best chance you have. I don't care that I'm…" She trailed off, her hand resting instinctively, protectively, over her still flat abdomen.

She didn't even realize she was shaking with the solemnity of her pledge.

Norah shook her head to herself to clear her mind, as visions of her husband's heartbroken and furious face flooded through her mind's eye at what she thought he would say if he could hear for himself just what the hell she was planning on.

"I can take care of myself," she said in a cold voice. "I will find her. I swear it," she vowed, lowering her voice a bit.

Pansy searched Norah's eyes for any sign of falsehood, any hint that she couldn't trust her cousin's promise to take care of herself but found none. She thought she would have wanted to shy away from her cousin's grip, but she didn't.

It felt good to have someone so close to her that still gave a damn about her, to hear her promise to save the life of someone she didn't know, for her, to hold Norah's hand.

All Pansy could do was stare numbly at Norah, and after several long moments, she nodded.

For Norah, it was more than enough.

Slowly, she gathered herself and turned to George.

"Send a Patronus to Ollie at the Ministry, if you can. Let him know what's happened here today. I-" she started to say, but before she could say anything, the familiar deafening cracking! sound of someone Apparating in her cousin's flat drowned out what she'd been about to say and began to fill her eardrums with a fatigued ringing that Norah just wanted to stop.

Norah drew her wand and raised it squarely at the Death Eater's broad chest as former Death Eater Rodolphus Lestrange stood smack dab in the middle of Pansy's living room. Exclamations and startled shouts rent through the air at the unexpected arrival of Bellatrix Lestrange's husband.

Her cheeks turned hot, and her stomach fluttered as the Death Eater stalked toward her. She looked over the man's rough, weather-beaten, and scarred face, her eyes widening as she arched her neck. Her resolve very nearly faltered, and she almost turned on her heels to Disapparate, thinking of the baby now burgeoning in her womb, but she held herself stock still, straight, and proud, though her mind screamed at her to turn.

"Mrs. Brennan, good to see you again, dollface," Rodolphus Lestrange leered.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, not you, anybody but you, Lestrange, Merlin damn you, what did you do?" she whisper hissed through clenched teeth as she straightened her gait, her stance becoming defensive. When she spoke again, she rose her voice. "Weasley, Pan, all of you, do as I tell you to and get the hell out of here. Now," she barked in a voice that did not sound like her at all. It was too gruff, and her voice never sounded like this. Tight. Strained, even. As if she were holding back a dozen retorts.

It took Pansy several minutes to find her voice.

"Wh...what?" she stammered, her tongue suddenly feeling thick in her mouth.

Pansy was sure she had misheard her cousin just now.

She blinked, unsure of what was passing in front of her eyes now was an illusion or merely a figment of her overactive imagination. Norah's back was paraded towards her, her face no longer visible to her sight.

However, her posture was straight and the way she carried herself now in front of the seasoned and experienced Death Eater, was that of someone she feared.

There was an air about her that made Pansy feel as though the Norah Brennan she was now looking at was not her cousin. She was now a woman, who dare she think it, was dangerous. Dangerous wasn't how she'd have liked to describe her and yet, that was the only word Pansy could come up with.

A force that should not have been toyed with, and someone whose family members should never, ever, have been threatened.

She couldn't leave, despite feeling George tugging on her sleeve and the sounds of Charlie and Draco Disapparating.

How could she expect her to leave without her? Ollie would bloody fucking murder her himself if her cousin's husband found out that she'd left his pregnant wife alone with this bastard. Norah had done so much for her throughout the years—shielding her when it mattered from the worst of her parents' abuse, always letting her have a place in her flat, letting her crash on their sofa, and then when she'd moved into the Brennan family's lavish manor following Jack Brennan's death and Ollie inheriting the place, the rule had stayed the same. If she ever needed help, Pansy was to come to her first.

"Go." Norah's voice was terse, her tone bordering on biting, insistent, and her posture told her that she was not budging. "Weasley, you take my cousin and get her the hell out of here."

George frowned. It was too much. They had to stay, to help.

"I—" George began, hoping to convince the blonde otherwise, though arguing with the Veela was the absolute wrong thing to do, as Norah's angry voice rent through the air.

"YES! You can and you will!" Norah shouted curtly, cutting George off as she knew her cousin's new boyfriend was about to protest. "You fucking listen to me, Merlin damn you, and you leave us. Lestrange and I here need to have a little chat. Alone," she emphasized, not taking her eyes off of Lestrange.

George hesitated, though he felt a tug on his sleeve coming from his right and glanced to the side, looking towards Pansy.

All the color had drained from her face, and it was then that George realized she couldn't stay and help.

There was no compromise, no in-between. Either he got the witch he cared for to safety and informed Norah's husband of what had happened, or he stayed and watched Lestrange slaughter the Veela who Pansy cared for more than anybody else in her life.

He had to choose. But Norah Brennan would not let him choose.

"GET OUT!" Norah shouted.

George put pressure on his arm now wound around Pansy's waist, pulling her closer, realizing with a sickening jolt that he would do almost anything for the witch he now held clung to.

Before he could second guess his actions, not needing to be told a third time, George squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring Pansy furiously beating on his chest and clawing at his arms in a desperate attempt to reach her cousin and Disapparated, silently praying that they would see Norah alive and well again. As he vanished from Pansy's flat, George felt the weak muscle that resided within his chest, shatter, as Norah Brennan's stricken expression was the last thing George saw.

NORAH stayed silent, not taking her eyes away from the spot where only moments before, her cousin and her new man had stood. She didn't know George from the other one, his dead twin, but she could see just how much the Weasley man cared for her cousin and wondered at the obvious bond between them, just how serious it was getting for Pansy.

She prayed she'd live long enough to ask her later on if Ollie didn't murder her himself for what she was about to do. She only turned around to face the towering Death Eater once she was sure Weasley and her cousin were truly gone from the loft.

Rodolphus Lestrange stood in the shadows of the open space of the younger witch's loft, staring at pretty Norah Brennan as she looked as though she wanted nothing more than to jinx him, though the furrow of confusion between her brows only grew, and gave away to the Death Eater that the Veela would do no such thing.

The way she was looking at him now was a brand new injury, a new humiliation since his wife's death. A part of him shattered with the look the beautiful blonde who was more to him than a familiar face now shot him. But at the same time, there was a feeling of satisfaction. Triumph. Smug glory in that she could be his ticket to avoiding ending up back in Azkaban if it would keep Auror Brennan off his trail, she could be ransomed. The hated thief that had stolen the pretty witch's kisses.

He had made a play for the Veela's heart long before Dolohov had. With her looks capable of enchanting any man she passed by, how could he have resisted her call? Now, damn her, was no different, either. It was not something Rodolphus thought that he could articulate at all.

His hands trembled with rage. He wanted to kill that bitch, Arthur Weasley's wife, to avenge Bella's death.

Again, and again and again, and if this pretty little dove would not give up her location, he had more than one way of making her divulge the information he sought. He would bash the bastard Auror's skull to the floor when Oliver Brennan arrived on the scene at the location of his choosing. He wanted to hear the wizard's bones crack, the Muggle way, forsaking his use of magic. He wanted to watch the hardwood floorboards of the abandoned old Riddle House turn red with Brennan's blood.

He wanted to see the man's brain matter paint the ground.

"You came all this way for me, Lestrange, should I be scared of you?" she murmured dryly in a clipped tone as he slunk towards her. Every muscle in Lestrange's body was tense, every cord pulled taut across his lean form in his set of black woolen thick robes.

He readied himself, prepared to pounce at the slightest sign his newest prized possession meant to flee. At any hint, she was lying. Though her tone was sarcastic, bordering on biting, much like the other pretty little blonde thing who was currently kept safe, secured, her voice trembled. Norah Brennan was scared of him as he continued to slowly make his way toward her. His head bent, his shoulders hunched. A bead of sweat rolled down his neck just then.

The skin beneath his beard itched. He came to step in front of the Auror's wife. He did not believe her words. She was scared. People got scared of him. All the other witches had that look in their eyes as well.

His fingers twitched as his lips parted and his body hardened uncomfortably to the point where it was almost painful.

Maybe…maybe if he could get close enough to touch her—

"Lestrange!"

He jumped back, startled. The wizard's eyes found the Veela's. His heart pounded against his ribs. Just a little closer. Just a little closer…Her skin was so soft, so creamy, pale, and perfect.

"What the bloody hell are you playing at?" she growled, glowering at Rodolphus incredulously. "I'm not giving up the witch who killed your wife, Lestrange. Why does it matter that much to you anyway?" She demanded, quirking a thin brow at him in confusion. "I always got the impression the two of you never really loved one another, so why? I want the girl. You bring back Verity Raywood, that girl I think you kidnapped in broad daylight down in Diagon Alley, and you….you can have me, you can take me, do whatever the hell you're going to, to me, but you let that girl go. That's...that's what I offer you, nothing more and nothing less." She jutted her chin out slightly defiantly and stared him down, trying to brave his scalding stare. "Take it or leave it," she blurted out, her words clumsy and blunt after a long pause as she thought over what she could offer the wizard.

She saw how he was eyeing her, how all of the wizards tended to whenever she happened to pass them by in St. Mungo's or out doing her shopping in Diagon or Knockturn Alley, of course, she knew what he wanted.

Men like this were simple creatures, easy to please. She just needed to stall until someone could hopefully send word to Ollie just how much shit she had managed to get herself into now.

He laughed at her with mocking, a thing Rodolphus did so naturally.

"Oh, Luv, you are in no position to ask me for anything. Rest assured, I'm going to do to you what I should have done the first moment I saw your pretty little arse in Diagon Alley. What Dolohov would have liked to if you wouldn't have made such a ruckus." His voice rose to match his mounting anger within.

The Death Eater reached for his wand. Her eyes widened as she saw the sheer size of it, for his wand seemed longer than the average. She frowned, her fear once more manifesting itself in the form of anger.

"Shut up, Lestrange! Can't you see I wasn't even listening?! Didn't your mother ever tell you that she should have kept her legs closed?" she barked, and knew instantly, she'd regret her words. "Sometimes I wonder, Lestrange, whether your pigheadedness is not simple stupidity," Norah growled, and immediately cursed herself for letting her mouth run away with her and clamped her lips shut, hating how her mouth could run away with her.

A trait that sadly, Pansy had picked up on as a little girl and had paid the price for it more than once throughout her life.

To Norah's horror and furious rage, his thin lips curved upward into a smile.

She knew immediately as she looked across the room at him that she had made a grave mistake just now in mouthing off to him. His shoulders, broad and strong, heaved slightly as he breathed heavily, and the wizard's head cocked to the side.

It was a truly frightening scene. Norah would be lying to herself if she said she wasn't at least a little bit afraid.

But as she saw his wand raise in combination with his looming body, she knew she had to try. If she didn't, she and the baby within her would be dead. She took a deep breath, looked briefly to the ceiling, offered up a silent prayer to Merlin or whoever was up there in the afterlife looking out for her and her family, and then pounced, throwing herself forward on the balls of her heels. Lestrange did the same, but a half a second after Norah, and as she violently turned the corner of Pansy's loft, intending to bolt for the hallway, she felt his fingertips glancing off her shirt.

Norah screamed in agony as she tripped on something that the Death Eater had likely conjured with his wand in an attempt to trip her up and it worked, going down onto her knees and then rolling over onto her back onto the floor.

She looked down and found horrifyingly what looked like a silver dagger, his, she knew that engraving of the silver 'L' well enough, lodged into one of her shins. Norah felt tears sting at the edges of her eyes as she yelped, reaching down for the knife, but the Death Eater was already looming over Norah.

Norah screeched and kicked out at him with her unwounded leg. The heel of her boot landed squarely between his legs and he fell to his knees, his hands between his legs, shoulders hunched inward, a growl of pain emanating from deep within his throat.

The weight of Rodolphus Lestrange on top of her crushed her, and a horrible agonizing pain shot through her injured shin. It had not been so deep, thank Merlin, but the bone had been compromised, and Norah's screams ripped through the air. The wizard's hand went to cover her mouth, but it closed over her nose as well, cutting off any hope the witch might have had of obtaining oxygen for her quickly burning lungs.

Tears left her eyes as she floundered in her horrible failure.

Lestrange's knee forced its way between her legs, and she wailed on him as best as she was able with her hands, but it did Norah no good. Tears spilled down her cheeks and her leg suddenly hurt more than she could even comprehend.

Norah continued to hit him as she felt his knee rub between her legs. She had a horrifying moment of sickening realization as she felt the Death Eater press himself against her that because she had taunted him, then he was going to do the same. But he made no move to humiliate her further by ripping her blouse or fumbling with the waistband of her black pants.

Instead, Rodolphus' calloused and rough hand remained closed over her face, smothering her. Her brain began to turn foggy, and her lungs continued to burn. Norah was sure she was going to bloody die.

This was it. She had failed Pan and her friends, her husband too, but at least she wouldn't be assaulted. Not alive, anyway.

She only wished she knew what had happened to her cousin and the rest.

If they'd made it somewhere safe if Ollie had been told, or one of his partners. If they were OK. She wondered if she should have sent the Patronus letting them know what was going on herself before attempting to escape.

But what good could she have done? She had needed to alert her husband and the rest of the Aurors he worked alongside, and she had failed, and now, she and everyone she cared about were as good as bloody murdered. She needed Ollie.

Norah repeated her husband's name like it was her own, praying the hot-headed Auror, the Legilimens that he was, could hear her if he was within earshot of her, last seeing Rodolphus Lestrange's leering face before her consciousness began to ebb at the sound of scuffling boots and feeling herself being picked up in a pair of strong arms, his arms. But even as her mind surged for the darkness to let the sweet tide of unconsciousness take her, a dull pain began festering from her stomach.