A/N: My apologies again for the length of this chapter. I had tried to split it up but neither section had the impact I wanted, so thanks for bearing with me!
CHAPTER 18
THE anticipation of not knowing her cousin's fate was killing her. It had begun raining perhaps a little heavier than usual almost the minute George had Disapparated with her, back to the Burrow, the one place he trusted above all else, where they would be safe.
The grass and reeds were already wet and the walkway that led up to the Weasley's home was muddied. Pansy stubbornly stood out on the front porch.
She was partially protected from the rain by the somewhat leaky roof over her head, in addition to a simple Water Repellant Charm and the Reparo Spell had been able to mend easily enough.
She squinted her eyes and strained to see through the torrential downpour that now deluded upon the area. George's father, Arthur Weasley, stood alongside her.
She honestly was not sure what to have made of George's father at first, but within days of her staying at the Burrow and learning of his fascination with Muggle artifacts, Pansy knew she liked Arthur Weasley and found him endearing.
Though a bit odd, Arthur Weasley was quiet, reserved, and mild-mannered. But his eyes, though, did give Pansy something to think about.
There was something fierce underneath the surface of the man's brown eyes that even Arthur couldn't hide from her. A sort of protectiveness.
Only slightly taller than his wife, Arthur Weasley, a simple man though he was, was not a wizard to be trifled with, nor his temper to be tested, she could tell right off.
Though Mr. Weasley had been kind to her and George the second they had come up onto his parents' front porch. He offered her a cup of fresh coffee and gave her a once-over for injuries, despite her insistence that she was fine. The sky was becoming darker by the minute.
The nasty weather only added to Pansy's growing panic that Norah hadn't Apparated on the Weasley's property yet.
She couldn't ignore the swooping pit that churned in her stomach, making her feel as if she were about to be sick, as she kept her hands wound around her mug.
She knew the proper thing to do would have been to go inside and wait for word to come from Ollie that he'd gotten George's Patronus he had sent him. That he would handle Lestrange.
Charlie was inside the kitchen with Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and Ron, while Mrs. Weasley administered a small tonic into a cup of tea for her son's nerves to help with the shock.
Mrs. Weasley, Merlin bless her soul, had offered a droplet of the Calming Draught to Pansy as well, just a dollop in her coffee, she'd said, but Pansy flat out refused, without explaining, not sure she could even find the right words.
She wanted to cling to this icy feeling of fear, to never, ever forget, even in this time of peace, what it felt like.
George pleaded with her to come inside, that she would catch a chill out here the longer she lingered on the porch like this, but she couldn't go in.
George slipped inside for a moment to tell his mother everything, what Norah had done, lamenting to the point of near hysterics how in Merlin's green earth they were going to tell her husband what had happened.
With Norah as his support person to calm him down, there was no telling what sort of violent tempest the Obscurial would fly into the moment the news hit him and he processed it.
As Pansy quietly eavesdropped on the advice that George's mum was offering, she was unable to repress the violent shiver that clawed its way up and down her spine as she shrunk into the borrowed brown cardigan that Mrs. Weasley had brought for her.
It was Ginny's, one she had outgrown but it fit Pansy loosely, two sizes too big for her.
But given the chill in the air and the storm that raged war on the elements, she was grateful for the garment, and accepted the sweater without too much complaint and quietly slipped it on. Leaves scraped across the ground of the Burrow as the wind picked up and thunder rolled in the distance.
She could already tell, this was the sort of bloody storm that would last a good few hours.
She was beginning to fear the worst, wondering why Norah hadn't turned up.
Her beloved cousin was a skilled duelist in her own right, the Veela had never been one to be trifled with. The few times Pansy had gotten cocky and overconfident enough in her abilities to try, each time, Norah had won.
And now, with how dark it was becoming, thanks to the black and purple thunderclouds that showed no sign of letting up anytime soon, she wouldn't be able to see but three paces in front of her and would have no choice but to give up and to come inside.
"You can't help her even if we wanted to, Miss Parkinson. At least this way, we can send for someone. Ollie should know soon enough, other Aurors from the Ministry will come," came Arthur Weasley's voice from behind as he moved to stand behind her, clamping a hand on her shoulder.
Pansy grimaced but didn't shy away from George's father's surprisingly tender touch. It felt good, to have the man holding her like this. Like he would one of his one children.
For a moment, she felt included. Safe, even.
"We have to go back!" Pansy pleaded almost forebodingly as she turned slightly at the waist to look Mr. Weasley in the eye, just as George came out onto the porch to check on her.
Mr. Weasley furrowed his brows in contemplative thought, looking as though he were about to argue, though before the older wizard could say a word, George interjected.
"We can't! It's not what Norah wanted, Pan," George remarked, raising his voice. He wasn't quite shouting at Pansy, but he spoke with more passionate vigor so his new girlfriend would have a moment to take in and process his words. "Your cousin wanted you safe, away from him. There was nothing we could do, I did what I had to and got you out of there, it was the only thing I could do, we—we can't go back, Pan, let her husband deal with him," George snapped.
Pansy's eyes hardened as she stared at George, which gave him pause as he moved forward and intertwined her hand with his, giving the delicate appendage a firm but light squeeze, trying to convey whatever comfort that he could.
Mr. Weasley remained silent, the look that now passed between his son and this young witch did not go unnoticed by him. He knew that look well, having seen it several times in the mirror when he was a young lad and courting Molly.
He knew that George would do anything for this witch and speaking of her… Arthur shifted his gaze towards Pansy Parkinson, fearing too, how recognizable the look that was beginning to take root on her expression was becoming.
She wore the same look of steadfast determination and resolve on her face whenever he thought of his wife, how he would do anything to ensure Molly and his family were kept safe.
Pansy looked as though she wanted to say something, continuing to cling onto George's hand as though his son were a lifeline for her, and for all Arthur knew of him, perhaps his son was, and for that, he could not be prouder. He was grateful George appeared to have found a respectable witch, kind-hearted as she was, and pretty, to boot, to have spent his time with, but that did not change the fact that an Order member's life was now in danger, to say nothing of George's assistant, Verity Raywood, too.
Pansy continued to look worriedly up at George, who towered over her, pursing her lips, and shaking her head. She shrugged her hand out of George's grasp and began to turn away towards the porch. When she spoke, her voice was flat, though both the father and son heard the warbling note of fear in her voice.
"Merlin's Beard, George, Mr. Weasley, sir, what…what the hell am I going to tell Ollie? Norah is his whole bloody world. Without her, he's lost." Without waiting for either one of them to answer her, she slowly turned her face towards the two wizards, the mask of calm she wore beginning to crumble in front of their eyes, unable to hide her emotions from Arthur or George. "I can't just…stand here in safety on this porch while my last surviving family member that I have left is—is hurt or—or bloody fucking dying to death somewhere in some godforsaken hovel, wherever Lestrange decided to take her! I won't wait for an owl or a Patronus to send some part of her body to me as some kind of sick disgusting taunt!" she sobbed, wiping furiously at the tears now glistening in her eyes with the heel of her hand. Her breaths hitched in her throat as she wept. "I—I have to go back, I—I can't stand not knowing if something happened to Nor, she—she's all I have….all I have. Don't ask me to wait, because I won't!" she shrieked, her tone bordering on the edge of nearly hysterical.
She choked on the sounds now forming in her throat, and George and Mr. Weasley were sure it was all Pansy could manage to do not to vomit.
She turned away and made to barrel down the steps of the Burrow's porch with the intent to Disapparate back to her flat and hope that Norah was still there, and hopefully alive and in one piece.
Though before she could even make it off the first step, George's arm shot out and the wizard yanked her backward, eliciting a yelp from her as the witch unexpectedly splayed across George's broad chest.
George didn't hesitate to lock Pansy in his arms as his new girlfriend let out frustrated sobs and wailed on his chest with her fists, trying to break free of the grasp he had on her, but if anything, his already tight hold only intensified.
Pan's life would be at risk if he let her leave the safety of the Burrow. George was sure that Dad knew just as well as the whole bloody household did, that Pan was their best shot at explaining to Norah's husband, and still having their home remain in one piece by the end of it.
The Burrow had been given every manner of protective enchantments possible once George had relayed that Rodolphus Lestrange was after Mum, with Arthur and Bill over-seeing the enchantments being set in place themselves.
Pansy calmed after a moment and relinquished her tight grip on the fistfuls of George's shirt she'd seized.
Though before she could gingerly shove George away in the hopes of getting him to let her go so she could continue down the Burrow's front porch to Disapparate back to her flat, a loud deafening crack! rent through the air.
Surely, it had to be Ollie.
She took a nervous step in the direction of the sound and waited eagerly, squinting her eyes, struggling to see against the rain.
Time itself seemed to come to a halt, her breath refusing to leave her lungs as a horrible black torrent of darkness that had nothing to do with the tempest now raining down on the Burrow, flooded the sky.
The sight she bore even in the darkness, of two white pinpricks that burned brighter than the Lumos Charm, could be seen staring at Pansy in contempt.
It sent her swallowing, and her first instinct was to run, but somehow, she managed to stand her ground.
Though her newfound resolve and bravery very nearly failed her, and she would have run were it not for George squeezing onto her hand the moment a horrible noise rent through the air. The sound belonged to neither man nor animal, it sounded like nothing she had ever heard.
The scream was inhuman and ripped through Pansy's heart like shards of glass. She recognized the scream as Ollie's.
She would know her cousin's husband's voice anywhere.
The Obscurus had taken control of his body and soul, which led her to only one conclusion: that he'd learned of what his wife had done. Her heart clenched in terror as she suddenly grew frantic, watching wide-eyed and horrified as the black mass rapidly approached their position.
She had to think of a way to calm the man down, and quickly, or the Weasley's home would not be remaining standing for much longer.
Mrs. Weasley came barreling through the front door, barking orders at Ron, Hermione, and Ginny to go out the back door, to run as far as they could, and moved to stand by her husband, their wands both drawn, though Mrs. Weasley's face was pale and taut.
"Merlin's Beard, Arthur, what—what's happening?" Mrs. Weasley had to shout to make herself heard as another hair-raising scream from the Obscurial ripped through the air.
Mrs. Weasley turned to face Mr. Weasley, her moisture-filled eyes desperately searching Arthur's face for an explanation.
But Mr. Weasley refused to answer his wife, bolting down the front steps of their home, his wand drawn, his expression laced with a fierce determination Pansy thought she instantly admired.
George's father began running towards the open fields where the black swirling tempest appeared to be congregating as Ollie Brennan physically materialized, darkness engulfing him and the surrounding area.
Pansy's heart was in her throat as she skidded to a halt alongside George, feeling all the color drain from her face.
She had only seen Norah's husband get like this once before, in all the years of knowing him, and that was when news of his father's death had reached him. His father, from what very little she knew of the Death Eater, had been horrible to him and his mum growing up, but Ollie refused to speak of it.
And despite everything, he still mourned the man when Jack Brennan died at the jaws of the Dementor's Kiss. Though she could not understand his reaction at the time, considering the father and son hated one another, the incident had still ended with him nearly destroying his father's home. He would have too if it weren't for Norah there to calm him down.
Now that she wasn't, and to the best of her recollection, his wife was the only person he would listen to when he got like this, Pansy had never felt more lost, or more scared of her family member in her entire bloody life. Her ears began to burn and when she swallowed down past a growing hard knot in her throat, it felt as though she were swallowing knives.
As the Obscurial in front of her approached where she, George, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley stood, all with their wands raised and she saw the monster her cousin's husband had become, Pansy started to cry. She couldn't help it.
The man was as good as an older brother or even an uncle figure to her when she had no other male influence in her life that mattered.
And now, he was going to kill them all but her especially for letting Norah be left alone with Rodolphus Lestrange.
She was going to die. She knew she was going to die. Ollie would not forgive her, not for this mistake. Not after so many attempts. How he was even moving after the brutal beating he was still recovering from that Antonin Dolohov managed to give him, she didn't know.
But she guessed it had everything to do with the parasitic Obscurus that had latched onto Ollie's soul and the darkness in his heart. She did not know how it had found him, only that he had become an Obscurial at a very young age.
Whenever he was asked, Ollie would become tight-lipped and angry, refusing to speak of whatever incident had traumatized him.
She suspected it was adrenaline surging through his body now that was giving him the strength to continue.
She knew from the look in Ollie Brennan's eyes that it was over for her, and everyone else. They were all about to die.
Pansy had thought it might be calming to know that it was the end and there was nothing you could do, back when she had been buried underneath the rubble and thought she was done for, but here and now, that was proving to be not the case.
She was panicked, terrified, sad, frightened, and though the strength of George's hand around her shoulder calmed her somewhat, she still felt alone. Tears cascaded down her cheeks and only the whites of Ollie Brennan's eyes looked back at her.
His body was rigid, nothing more than a dark silhouette. She had always thought she didn't want to die in the dark. She wanted to die in the light, but he wouldn't even grant her that.
Ollie took a step towards them, and then another step and another, and another, and then he stopped, his wand clutched so tightly in his hands that his knuckles were bone-white with the effort to hold onto it.
Pansy began to feel numb as the Obscurial walked toward her. She felt guilt though and the sadness you felt when you experienced a deep loss.
She was sure she had lost something with the Auror, something meaningful, by letting his wife remain in her loft with Lestrange and not bothering to put up more of a fight.
A horrible, fatigued ringing began in her ears as she felt her feet take two or three steps forward to meet her cousin's husband where he stood.
She thought she could hear George and his parents, shouting something to her, something along the lines of staying back and not approaching him in his most dangerous state, but their words were muffled.
She swallowed, hard, and it was then that she felt the sharp point of the wizard's wand as it was pressed against the column of her throat. Her lower lip trembled, and she blubbered as she waited for the explosion of pain to cut through her skin when the Obscurial's temper would implode.
For the familiar flash of green light that came from the last and worst of the Unforgiveable Curses to end her life.
But that moment for her never came. She felt the tip of his wand press even deeper into her skin, almost biting, and yet nothing. Pansy squeezed her eyes shut hard, not wanting to look into the pure white orbs that were the monster's eyes.
The tip of the wizard's wand pushed against her neck again and she took in a deep breath but again, Ollie did nothing.
Slowly, her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him.
"I'm sorry, Ollie," she whispered in a choked voice. "Nor, she—she made us. She wouldn't let us stay and help her."
Pansy watched fearfully as his jaw clenched, more emotion on the wizard's face than she had ever seen before.
His hand shook as it gripped onto his wand, trembling against her skin. His lip curled upward into a vicious snarl, and Pansy could only watch in amazement and terror. It was rage and confusion on the hardened Auror's expression, but it was emotion on the man's face.
Emotions that he had been trained to mask from day one of his training, and perhaps even before that, growing up with a man like Jack Brennan, a well-known and respected Death Eater in the Dark Lord's ranks, for a father. Visible on his face, was unmistakable emotion.
Her lips parted in amazement. She was about to speak to him when something truly amazing happened. She watched, awestruck, as the tension in the wizard's shoulders seemed to dissipate and the darkness slowly began to fade away, his turned white eyes reverting to their usual deep blue hue.
"Ollie?" Pansy whispered hesitantly, stepping forward, her hand outstretched.
She wanted to put a hand on his shoulder but wasn't sure if in his emotionally vexed state, he'd allow that.
The world felt like it was collapsing in around her as her eyes rested and lingered on the man's blue eyes. They were laced to the brim with such a horrible, antagonizing hurt, that it stole the breath from her lungs.
"I—I don't…I never…" she stammered, amazed she could find her voice at all as bile rose in the back of her throat the longer she lingered on the hurt now brimming in the wizard's eyes. But she couldn't bring herself to look away.
She felt George's hand grip her shoulder, preventing her from taking a step forward, though before she could turn to say anything, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley darted forward, just as the strength in Ollie's legs gave out and the Auror swayed precariously on the spot.
"Into the house! Quickly!" Mrs. Weasley commanded.
George blinked himself out of his stunned stupor, feeling immediate alarm at seeing a former Order member in such a horrible state as the energy was draining from the man's body.
He darted forward to take over for his mum, letting Mum duck underneath Ollie's outstretched arm that George draped over his shoulder, with his father on the other side, supporting his weight, and together, the father and son helped the Obscurial walk back towards the Burrow.
Ron met them halfway to the house, shouting at the top of his lungs that they've sent for Harry, who was Ollie's new partner-in-training for the next three years.
Harry would one day take over for Nymphadora Tonks once he was officially caught up to speed, and to wait for Harry.
Once Harry arrived, the two of them could plan once they revisited Pansy's loft to do a sweep of the place in the event Lestrange would have left something behind, as a trophy of sorts, to haunt Ollie.
"There's no…need for that, we don't have to go back, I...have it handled..." Ollie barked, his hoarse voice coming out as a weak rasp that sounded reedy, as he talked over Mrs. Weasley calling for Hermione and Ginny to check on the kettle of tea she'd been boiling on the stove, and to please pour Mr. Brennan a cup.
"What? Why? How?" George exclaimed, his curiosity getting the better of him as he let out a pained grunt.
Due to the wizard's bulk and muscle from his training regimen and demand to keep in peak physical condition for his job, Ollie Brennan was heavier than he looked, nothing but muscle underneath the thick black sweaters he favored wearing.
Letting out a groan of relief, he alongside his father helped Ollie to sit down on the sofa, Ollie muttered a half-hearted thanks as Ginny darted forward with that promised cup of tea, before scampering out of the living room alongside Hermione once Mrs. Weasley shot them all withering looks.
She looked as though she was of a mind to ask Pansy and George to leave too, though considering Pansy knew Norah best and could explain what had happened, she relented and let them stay.
Pansy could only watch, numb and stricken, rooted to her spot in the kitchen as she lingered in the entryway that separated the kitchen from the living room, feeling as though she had been Stunned.
She hated the fact that as she stood motionless, George had to come over and guide her by the hand towards one of the chairs positioned by the fireplace, guiding his shell-shocked girlfriend to sit down before she passed out.
Part of it was shock and guilt at leaving Norah alone with Bellatrix Lestrange's sadistic bastard of a husband, that kept her from wanting to look Ollie in the eyes, but also knowing there was little she could do to help the wizard in locating his wife, not knowing where Lestrange would have taken Norah and Verity.
She didn't nearly look at him, but in the end, she couldn't turn away, knowing that she'd never forgive herself later for being such a coward to not even see Ollie and the damage that she was responsible for now.
She blinked and shook herself out of her stupor as she heard Mr. Weasley speaking to Mrs. Weasley in low murmurs, while Ollie merely wound both of his hands around his mug of freshly brewed tea but did not drink.
The man merely stared into the roaring fire in the hearth as though nothing else around him mattered. Nothing but his wife.
The stricken wizard did not even look up as the familiar cracking! sound of his family's house-elf and Harry Potter Apparating into the Weasley's living room filled the air.
The unexpected noise and arrival of the Brennan family's house-elf elicited a startled shriek from Pansy.
Pansy's hand shot to her heart and clutched onto a fistful of her dark blue dress and her borrowed oversized brown cardigan from Ginny, as she fought to control her heart and looked down to see Ollie's family's house-elf, Vimly.
The little house-elf was currently staring up at her with huge round eyes the size of a Galleon.
Vimly had her tiny hands clamped over her abnormally large bat-like ears, which were drooping, as she shot her Master Brennan's Special Friend a worried but wilting look.
"Screaming like that, we's is saving for the outdoors, Misstress Parkinson, please, you's is hurting poor Vimly's ears!" she squeaked in a reproachful tone.
Pansy could recognize the little creature's note of finality in her voice as the Brennan family's house-elf refused to let her worry and concern for her master and his wife get the better of her.
She could only stare as Vimly scampered up onto the sofa and climbed onto Ollie's lap.
Taking the wizard's face in her tiny hands, Vimly tried to force her master to look her in the eyes, which was easier said than done, because her master would not look at anyone.
"Master Brennan, you's must remain calm, you's cannot help Mistress Brennan if you's is flying off the handle!" Vimly squealed in a terrified voice.
Vimly's ears drooped even further when despite her best efforts, the little creature couldn't get him to tear his gaze away from the flames roaring in the hearth.
"It's not Master's fault, Master Ollie, nobody is blaming Master for this, the fault lies with the bad man, with Master Lestrange, sir, you's must remain strong for Mistress Norah, sir! Young Mistress Norah, she is needing your help!" she cried.
Finally, the mention of his wife seemed to inspire a response in her master, as Ollie slowly lifted his head with painstaking slowness and glared at the elf, causing her to immediately shrink away. But he ignored it.
Ollie's heart pounded in his chest. Hard, rhythmic drumming that he could hear in his ears. Though he felt a certain relief that he had somehow managed to calm himself of the darkness within his heart and tame the Obscurus bonded to his soul without Norah by his side, he still felt on edge.
Every nerve in his body was on high alert. Every creaking groan in Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's house-made had the hairs on his body standing on end.
The Auror knew that Minister Shacklebolt would likely send more Aurors to deal with bringing Rodolphus Lestrange to task and locating his wife and the missing girl, Verity Raywood, but it wasn't the thought of the Minister forcing him off of the task force due to a conflict of interest that he feared.
Damn Kingsley Shacklebolt to hell and his bloody fucking regulations and going by the book on this, nothing, not even he was going to stop him from going after Lestrange himself.
But it was the thought that he would find Norah and he'd be too late to save her life, that made the hardened Auror terrified.
Receiving the Patronus less than ten minutes ago that had turned his entire world upside down, that his pregnant wife had been left alone to fend for herself against the likes of a monster like Rodolphus Lestrange, had been the only time in Ollie's entire existence that he had known real fear.
It was a terrible emotion that seized him, hearing that she was taken. He'd stood there for a moment in his office back at the Ministry of Magic, blinded by this new feeling of emotion.
He'd not even felt it as the Obscurus took control, nor could he remember destroying the particular wing of the Ministry in his haste to flee.
He could only think of Norah, his beloved wife. As he had fled the Ministry of Magic, knowing somewhere in the back of his consciousness that wasn't completely taken over by the parasitic force attached to his soul, he felt the sprouting of betrayal, devastation, and sadness inside of him.
The last thing he could remember before the blue of his irises clouded and his eyes turned white was the feeling of uncontrollable rage at the thought of his wife and their unborn child in danger.
It was that rage he felt when he finally came back to himself and that which he clung to now, but he made no move to look at Vimly, or even at Pansy.
He was a patient enough man. He need not give himself away too terribly soon.
The Obscurial within him had imagined killing Pansy Parkinson, for letting Norah behind with Lestrange, for not insisting she come.
And it felt good. He'd felt his muscles twitching and yearned for the young witch's blood. He yearned to punish her for what she had done to his wife.
Even when he had calmed himself down enough to come back to himself a bit, and she had tried to apologize, Ollie wanted to yell at her.
The more she apologized, the more she pleaded, the angrier he became. He wanted to believe his wife's cousin. He wanted that back, to trust her again, but she ruined it. Leaving his wife alone without putting up more of a fight, insisting that she flee the scene, wasn't something he would forgive. She wanted him to speak to her, but he wouldn't.
He would not give Pan any sort of response. She no longer deserved one. But when it had come down to it, and he'd pressed the tip of his wand against the witch's throat, he couldn't. The younger witch's dark eyes were so…sad.
She looked so scared. It shook him. Ollie wanted to make it stop, but the darkness festering in his heart wanted to hurt her, to punish the ones responsible for his wife's predicament. He wanted to make it stop, but he wanted her to suffer.
It was a horrible conflict. One he'd never felt before, in all his years of knowing Pan since he had met and started dating Norah, Norah's cousin had become an integral part of his life. Like a little sister that he was fond of and looked after.
What he'd felt only moments ago had yanked at him. Tore him apart and ate at his insides. It only lasted a moment. His decision became clear enough as the darkness within cleared and the fog of confusion Ollie found himself in dissipated.
The desire to kill left his heart, but those few seconds felt like an eternity. He needed Pan with him since Norah wasn't here. Pan was the one who had pulled him back, and Norah would never forgive him and would likely file for divorce if Pan ever got hurt.
So, like it or not, he needed her. Wanted her by his side. It was the strongest desire for a witch's presence he had ever felt that wasn't his wife. Words were impossible to describe it.
Angry though he was with Pansy for what happened, he could not hurt her. Not when he felt like this and knowing Norah would never forgive him for it.
Pansy sat forward in her chair, trying to get Ollie to look at her, but it was no good. She furiously blinked back the salty liquid now gathering at the edges of her eyes.
She copied her cousin's husband's movements of staring listlessly into the red and orange flames of the fire, wondering how the hell she'd let it come to this. She felt hollow when she finally spoke to the man.
"I should have been the one to stay behind, maybe…maybe I could have reasoned with Lestrange," she whispered in a shaking, small voice, knowing full bloody well how stupid her words sounded before they'd even fully left her lips.
There was no negotiating with a man like Rodolphus Lestrange.
She swallowed and tried to blink back her tears as she continued.
"It's my fault this happened to Nor, Ollie," she whispered, her voice breaking as she said her cousin's name. "I—I should have stayed behind, I could have stopped it, I—I could have talked to him."
George shook his head and perched himself on the armrest of the chair, pulling her close to him, letting out a frustrated sigh as Pansy numbly rested her head against his shoulder.
He ran his fingers through her hair, trying to do whatever he could to calm her down.
"There wasn't anything we could have done, Pan. He'd have killed you—both of us—if we'd stayed behind," he murmured, flicking his gaze towards his parents, both of whom were standing on either side of the sofa, watching Ollie Brennan as though the Auror were seconds away from another relapse of control.
George furrowed his brows and turned his attention towards Harry, who awkwardly sat on the cushion alongside his new senior partner as he underwent the rigorous training program for the Ministry's Auror Department. It was Harry who first noticed the change.
"Er…Mr. Brennan, sir, forgive me, but your—your ring…? Ah…is it supposed to be doing this? What—what is that? What did you do?" Harry stammered in a hesitant voice, pointing towards the plain silver wedding band Ollie wore on his ring finger, which was now emanating a hazy golden glow.
Harry's words were enough to pull Ollie from the swirling vortex of conflicting thoughts and emotions that were clouding his judgment as he looked down and followed Harry's gaze.
Ollie slowly lifted his left hand to his eye level.
Pansy recognized it immediately, feeling a surge of hope well within her chest as it hit her like a jolt of lightning, what Ollie had done to his ring and presumably to Norah's wedding band too.
"You—you put a Tracking Spell on Norah's ring, mate? Is...is that what you meant when you said you had it handled?" she asked, gaping in shock and surprise that he could have done such a thing. "But…why? Do you hold so little faith in your wife?" she questioned, glancing at Ollie with both awe and incredulous disbelief.
She glanced sideways at George out of the corner of her gaze to see what her new boyfriend thought of this and almost let a ghost of a smile flit across her face at seeing the look of shock plastered all over George Weasley's face.
Ollie offered a curt shake of his head, a muscle in the wizard's angular jaw twitching as he looked towards his young protégé.
"I trust my wife more than anything. She would never do anything like that, Pan, so don't you dare even suggest that I don't trust her. It's other men I don't trust," he snapped. "Men like Lestrange. Speaking of which, we have to go, now, Potter," he barked hoarsely in a clipped voice. "The bastard's got her holed up in the remnants of some old house in Little Hangleton, I'm not going to just stand by and wait for word to come that the son of a bitch has killed my wife," he remarked in a flat, emotionless voice as he rose to his feet with a groan, using the edges of the coffee table in front of the sofa for support.
A little bit of color had returned to the man's already pale complexion, and he appeared well enough to walk now, recovered mostly from the Obscurus using most of his body's energy during his outburst of manic anger.
But in Pansy's experience, looks could be deceiving. She rose to her feet and shook her head.
"You're still exhausted, Ollie, mate, you can't go. You're in no condition to be running around all of London looking for Lestrange, Ol," Pansy protested.
"Do you honestly believe I'm going to let this parasite," he spat the word as if it were poison in his mouth, referring to the Obscurus that had bound itself to his soul, "get in my way?" His expression hardened, becoming determined and cold. "I have to go. Norah is my wife, my responsibility to keep her safe. I made a promise to her the day I slipped that ring on her finger and married her, and nothing is going to change that. I don't expect you to understand, you're too young to know what it's like," he spat meanly. Pansy flinched but he ignored it and continued. "Do you mean to stop me, Pan?" Ollie growled, leaving his question hanging as a threat.
Pansy sighed in frustration, knowing he meant every word and knowing that he had not meant the venomous words he'd flung at her just now in a moment of self-pity.
She knew the look in his blue eyes well enough. That was his 'Decision' face, and there was no changing her cousin's husband's mind once it was made up.
He truly was hopelessly in love with the witch he'd been well, even after over ten years of being with her, and would go to any lengths necessary to get her back. She knew she couldn't stand in the way.
"Tch," he sneered, when Pansy couldn't bring herself to protest as she numbly shook her head no. "I thought not."
He turned away from his wife's cousin and looked toward his young protege. Harry immediately straightened his gait and snapped to attention, eager during his probationary period, of sorts, to make a good and long-lasting impression on his new mentor.
"Potter, with me," Ollie barked in a gruff commanding tone.
The blue glow emanating from the wizard's wedding band shone brighter.
Pansy did not understand what was happening.
Her mind felt like it was reeling, though as she watched her cousin's husband begin to turn on his heels and stalk towards the front door with the intent to Disapparate, Harry at his heels, she was stricken with the urge to help him in whatever way she could, as this was all her fault.
Though no sooner had Ollie flung open the front door of the Weasleys' home, than did the tall dark-haired wizard find himself standing face-to-face with none other than Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt.
Pansy's eyes widened at the sight of the wizard clad entirely in purple robes calmly standing in the doorway.
Yet he made no move to push past Ollie and enter George's parents' house. His professional demeanor gave him a nature of business-first. The wizard's kind dark eyes lingered on Ollie and Harry for a moment, before flicking his gaze back towards the stricken Auror.
"Mr. Brennan. Molly, Arthur, it's always a pleasure to see you, though I wish the nature of my visit were under more cheerful circumstances," Minister Shacklebolt announced, his deep baritone voice harboring a slight edge to it that Pansy had never heard before.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley offered their greetings half-heartedly, though their expressions remained concerned as they looked at Ollie.
Pansy shivered as George moved to stand by her and wound a hand around her waist. She was grateful for the comfort he was attempting to provide her, but her attention remained fixed on Ollie.
She was sure it wasn't a good sign when the Minister of Magic himself paid you a house call, that he'd not come here to speak to Ollie about anything good.
She was ripped from her thoughts when her cousin's husband spoke, almost sounding angry with Kingsley.
"Why are you here, Kings? What is it that you want? Whatever it is, I can't stay long," Ollie demanded in a hoarse voice.
Kingsley, for his part, remained unfazed by the glittering look of anger developing behind the deep blue pools of Ollie Brennan's eyes.
"You expect me not to notice when nearly the entire first floor of our Ministry is demolished due to one of your outbursts, Auror Brennan?" he scoffed, furrowing his dark brows into a frown. "I cannot permit you to apprehend Lestrange, Brennan, your wife being the man's hostage is a conflict of interest. Considering your inability to maintain control of your emotions, I have every reason to believe you will kill Lestrange if you found him first. If you would mean to see your wife returned safely to you, then tread down this path by telling me right here and now where Lestrange is hiding. I know you're aware," Kingsley remarked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as the newly appointed Minister of Magic caught a glimpse of the Auror's glowing wedding band. "How to breach its walls, any protective enchantments that might be set in place. Help us, Oliver. If you do, if you agree to let Aurors Runcorn and Dawlish handle this and give me your word that you will not attempt to interfere in any way, then I could see what I could do for you about getting the charges against you dropped. You destroyed the first floor of the Ministry when you got the news," he pointed out, just in case the Auror needed any reminding. "An offense punishable by at least five years in Azkaban Prison, to say nothing of the hefty fine that's incurred along with the sentence that's meant to cover the damages done to the building, Mr. Brennan. No one was seriously injured during your latest 'episode' thank Merlin, I'd hate to see those families sue you for damages done and see you wind up multiple times in front of the Wizengamot, Brennan," he muttered darkly, a shadow of anger flitting across Kingsley's dark features. "I could see what could be done about bringing in an expert to heal you, we could arrange to potentially see the Obscurus removed from your body. It is a procedure that has been performed only once, its success rate is ah, relatively low, but considering the absolute mess you've made of things, I would say that it warrants considering exploring if you value keeping your job, Mr. Brennan. But if you continue your devices against me by disobeying me on this, then I'm afraid I will have no choice but to relieve you of your position as an Auror, effective immediately. I have no need or want of an Auror who disobeys a direct order from me, and I do not condone this decision, Auror Brennan," he warned. "A better use of your…frustrations at your wife's current predicament would be to use it against Lestrange by helping us. But if not, I will not hold it against you, but either way, if not for my influence, a cell in Azkaban awaits you with your name on it. Is this what your wife would want? Would Norah want this for you?"
Ollie's anger seemed to deflate at the mention of his wife's name, and before he could say another word, he angrily nodded.
"Little Hangleton, sir. That—that bastard has my wife holed up in some decrepit old tumbledown house and—" But before the Legilimens could finish, the Minister held up a hand to stop him, a muscle in Kingsley's jaw twitching at his words.
"Enough, Oliver. That information is more than sufficient. A team of Aurors will be sent to the location straight away. Mr. Brennan, in the meantime, I would advise you to stay put. Go home, Oliver, and get some rest. Let your elf take care of you. You need the sleep, your eyes are darker than my dead father's soul," he commented gruffly, before dipping his head in respectful acknowledgment to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and turning on the heels of his boots and Disapparating without a word.
Ollie sneered at the spot where Minister Shacklebolt had stood not even half a second ago, before continuing his path down the stairs.
"To hell with that, I'm not going to pretend to be happy about it, I always knew Kings was a right bloody wanker, just like the rest of them. Politicians. You can't trust any of them further than you can throw them, I don't give a good goddamn that Tonks has always liked Kings, he's just like Fudge, telling me what to do," he hissed through gritted teeth. "Man thinks he can stop me from finding my wife, he's mistaken," he spoke in a voice that Pansy could only describe later as a low growl.
He looked down at his wedding ring, the blue glow still strong and vibrant, as if silently encouraging him to disobey the man's orders.
He brought his knuckles to his lips and tenderly kissed the ring with as much tenderness and gentleness as he could muster.
"Hang on, babe, just a little while longer, Luv. I'm coming, Nor," Ollie quietly promised, his voice hushed, like a whisper.
Pansy immediately wanted to look away, feeling as though she were looking and intruding upon a private moment, but couldn't.
She still wondered how it was that a kind bloke like Ollie could have had so much tragedy befall him throughout his life, and despite his problems, still come out even stronger for it.
A surge of hope welled within her chest as she began to watch Ollie and Harry walk away, towards the grasslands at a safe enough distance away to Apparate.
"Wait!" she cried, dragging George forward. She hoped he wouldn't mind that she was about to speak for the both of them. "We want to come with you! Let us help you!" she pleaded desperately.
"No," Ollie growled viciously, almost shouting his retort as he spun on his heels and turned to face his wife's cousin the moment her request was out of her mouth. "That's not happening, are you out of your bloody mind, Pan? I didn't take you to be daft, Pansy, so please don't start this now. Just don't, you're not coming with. Norah made a promise to your parents if something ever happened to them to look after you, and I made that promise as well the moment I started dating her. We keep our word, Pan, you're staying here, where you'll be safe," he threatened. "I'm not in the mood to talk right now. Rodolphus Lestrange just stepped on a nonnegotiable huge land mine when he kidnapped Norah and thought he could get away with it, that I wouldn't come for her," he explained, a wild feral look of inhuman, monstrous rage flitting across his features as his face twisted in grief.
She could tell, he was already fearing the worst might have happened the longer he stayed here, doing nothing.
"I need to go find my wife and deal with Lestrange. You and George are staying here with Molly and Arthur, your friends, where you'll be safe. Norah would never forgive me if I let something bad happen to you," Ollie angrily snapped, watching all of the color draining away from Pansy's face. "You're part of our family, Pan. Always."
His expression softened for a moment as he looked at her, and then it hardened again.
"Given the choice, to willingly let you put yourself in danger or have you be safe where I know you'll be looked after, I'll always choose to keep you safe. Norah would want this."
"Then you don't leave me with any choice," Pansy gasped, her voice cracking as she furiously blinked back a fresh wave of tears.
Pansy fell silent as she considered the Auror's reasoning. Her heart ached to think of him leaving her alone.
Not now…how could she watch him go, after everything that the three of them had been through?
Something deep inside of her stung with a horrible bitterness and hurt that Ollie's so-called grand 'plan' of storming whatever hideout Norah and Verity were squirreled away in, wouldn't go as he thought it would.
She stared numbly off into the distance over Ollie's shoulder, so hurt that her words wouldn't form. She couldn't bring herself to look into his eyes.
"You won't be coming back, mate, if you do this," she announced in a flat voice as if she were already sure of the outcome of his ridiculous and stupid plan to try to take down Bellatrix Lestrange's husband on his own, with just Harry for backup.
She could only watch as Ollie was visibly startled at hearing her words.
He frowned. "Where the hell is this coming from, Pan?" he snapped, a surge of impatience seeping its way unbidden to the surface of his voice. "Of course, I'm going to come back." He took the witch by her elbows and gently brought Pansy around to face him. "Nothing is going to stop me," he vowed, wishing he had a way to tell his wife's cousin that his word was his bond, and better than any Unbreakable Vow he could make, though if she wanted him to do, he would. "I know where his hideout is. I'll only be gone a couple of hours. You can even time me if it will make you feel better. I'll kill the bastard and be back here with Norah and our baby Brennan before anyone knows I was there. Old Kings won't even know it was me." He tried to give her a hopeful little half-smile, though it came out as more of a frustrated grimace. "No one, especially not a disgusting coward like Rodolphus Lestrange is going to be a challenge to me in bringing my wife home. I'll kill anyone who stands in my way."
Pansy exchanged a worried look with George and squeezed the wizard's hand for reassurance and courage before tearing her gaze away from the wizard she thought she loved and looking back to Ollie.
"I know that no wand is a match for you, mate, especially not his. You and your partner trained under Mad-Eye Moody, you're one of the best," she pointed out, trying to ignore the wizard visibly wincing at the mention of his former partner, Tonks.
Nymphadora Tonks's death was a sore spot for the Auror and something he admittedly was not quite over, and she was sure a part of him never would be.
Pansy had only met the pink-haired witch a couple of times, once when Tonks had come over for their typical Sunday dinner.
Turns out the Metamorphmagus was good friends with Norah, and for that, Pansy had immediately liked her, the few times she'd gotten to speak to her.
Tonks and Ollie, from what she understood, were more than just partners, but the best of friends, and had been when the witch had been paired with Ollie at Mad-Eye Moody's insistence following her graduation from the Auror training program and she had become officially sworn in and licensed.
Her breaths surged from her lungs in shallow bursts. Pansy continued, desperate to make the man see reason.
"B-but you're still weak, mate, whenever you have one of your….outbursts, it takes a lot out of you. I don't think you could take Lestrange on in a fair fight, and we both know shitheads like that don't play fair," she pointed out, her words clumsy and harsh, but true. "He'll kill you, first chance he gets, just like the rest of the Dark Lord's lot, he's a cheating bastard and every bit of a fucking wanker," she growled, the curse words were ripped from her lips before she could stop herself. She thought she saw George flinch out of the side of her gaze, but she ignored it.
She knew George wasn't too keen whenever she swore, for whatever reason, and it was something she actively vowed to work on, but only after Norah and Verity were brought home safe.
Pansy continued, desperate to say her piece.
"And he would still come for George's mum, mate. It's Mrs. Weasley he wants. She's the one who killed Bellatrix, or don't you remember that? You were there, you and Norah both, you've seen how that bastard duels!" Pansy snapped.
She wanted nothing more than to fling her arms around his chest and let herself cry without restraint, but her heart was heavy with grief at the thought of if she let him leave, she'd not see him again, that she was now well past the point of crying.
Pansy knew that she had no tears left within her to shed.
"Please don't do this, Ollie. Not without me. Let me and George come with you, we can help you and Harry get them back. Norah is my family too," she pleaded, her voice cracking. "Everyone I've ever cared about has either died or left me. Everyone…fucking except for you and Norah!" she shouted, shoving Ollie's chest, but he didn't budge. "So don't you dare stand there and tell me to my face that I would be safer here with someone else because the truth is that I would just be more scared…" she choked out softly. Her voice trailed off as she waited nervously for Ollie's reply.
The Auror ground his teeth, cursing her for her pigheadedness that he was sure she'd learned from Norah throughout the years. He hated himself too, knowing he was putting this fear to settle in her heart, hoping to cause her to become afraid if it meant she'd stay put.
"You're staying here, Pan, and only Merlin himself will be able to save you from me if you get any ideas in that thick head of yours about following me and Potter, so don't even think of trying it. I'll know if you leave," he growled, his tone sounding almost cold. "And for him killing me. Tch," he scoffed and found it difficult not to roll his eyes. "That's not going to happen, Pan. Rookwood and Lestrange couldn't kill me during the Battle. I'm starting to think that nothing could, as long as this pest is attached to my soul," he snarled, gesturing to his chest and scrunching his nose, pulling a face of self-revulsion and hatred. "What makes you think Lestrange is going to be able to do it now? This parasite won't let me die so easily." He didn't let Pansy or George speak, interrupting both of them as he continued. "If there was another way, I'd find it, but the bastard has my wife, and for that, he's going to wish the other Aurors would have found him first by the time I'm through with him. I should have killed Lestrange that night at the castle when I had the chance. I had him, dead to rights, and I only thought of Norah, and now, she's paying the price."
He hung his head regretfully for a moment and then lifted his gaze again to his wife's cousin's tear-stained face.
"There have been too many people in my life who've died recently because I couldn't save them. Tonks, Lupin, Sirius, Hestia Jones, Emmeline Vance, Amelia Bones, all of them…" Ollie's hoarse voice cracked at the mention of his former partner's name.
Beside him, Pansy saw Harry stiffen.
She'd known he and Auror Tonks-Lupin were somewhat close, that he was now the godfather to Teddy Lupin, the Auror's son, but she'd never imagined just how close. She was beginning to think she didn't know Ollie or Harry quite as well as she thought she did.
She frowned as she realized she still didn't know the nature of the Obscurus attaching itself to the man's soul and wondered if Ollie would ever open up to her about it. Her attention was pulled back to the present once more as Ollie continued.
"I'm not going to let that be your fate, Pan. I won't. I will come back, and I will have Norah."
But his words were not good enough for her.
"We're coming with you. I'm not staying here, Ol, mate, so get that out of your head right now. If Harry can come, then we can too. I can't just stay back and watch you destroy yourself," she argued, spitting the words at her cousin's husband as though they were poison. "Norah would kill me if someone wasn't there to stop you blowing up everything in sight if that...thing loses it," she snapped, referring to the parasite within him. "She's my family too, mate, and I'm not letting you stop me!" Her jaw clenched like steel. "I'm coming with you lot, one way or another, so is George. You might need the extra help if something happens to you and Harry, mate. Do you seriously mean to stop me?" she growled.
She threw Ollie's own words back in his face, knowing it would hit him hard.
On instinct, Pansy groped for her wand and held it, ready to brandish it at the ready if she felt the need to.
She was coming with them, whether they liked it or not, and had made up her mind the minute George and she had arrived at the Burrow that she would be going back.
After everything Norah had done for her growing up, she owed her this much, at a minimum, and then some.
Ollie barely stifled the low growl of frustration that emanated from deep within the man's broad chest as he stalked forward. He leaned in and down so close to Pansy's face that the tips of their noses were touching as he thrust his face only inches away from hers.
"Pan, do you hear yourself? You have no idea what it is you're asking for. None. If you come with me and Potter, I'd be giving you the right to a horrible death. If Lestrange hurts you, he'll tear you to pieces, the Muggle way, and force me and Norah to watch while he does it, because that's the sort of sick bastard the wanker is. Do not put me and my wife through that. Stay here, please," he begged in a low growl, his last word spoken more like a whispered prayer as he lifted his gaze and glowered.
But Pansy's resolve did not falter as she stared right back.
"Oh, I heard you, mate. But that doesn't mean that George and I are gonna listen," she snapped, a muscle in her twitching angrily. "I'm coming with you, Ollie, I have to, Norah's like a sister to me," she repeated firmly. "I can't stay here while you and Norah are both in danger," she shouted, wildly gesticulating towards the open meadows in front of them with a wave of her arm, trying to make her point. "You're my family, and family protects their own. I'm coming," she snapped, feeling her anger surge within her.
She barely heard George suck in a large breath through his nose and hold it, and she knew then that he too, as did Harry, had seen how Ollie's eyes flicked black again.
She steeled herself, digging the heels of her feet into the ground and bracing herself for the Obscurus to erupt to the surface once more and assume control, but that moment never came.
For an excruciatingly long moment, there was perfect silence between the group.
No one seemed able to breathe or move a muscle. And then Ollie groaned in exasperation, and the heavy silence was lifted.
"You're a real pain in the arse, you know that, Pan?" he growled, silently seething as he turned away from Pansy for a moment.
The fury with which he now spoke to Pansy was directed at her specifically, but more so at himself, and at the circumstances that were now reluctantly forcing his hand. Common sense caught up to Ollie in a rush.
His mind screamed profanities at his wife's cousin and her stubbornness, thinking Pan was just like Norah in that regard. He didn't have the energy required to argue with her any longer.
He knew they were losing precious seconds of valuable time the longer they stayed put.
Pansy jutted her chin out slightly defiantly and glared at him.
"I learned from the best, mate. Your wife," she blurted out clumsily.
Ollie thought he hated himself even more than he already did as he realized he had no choice but to allow Pansy and George to tag along, and pray they'd be safe and listen to his instructions and stay out of his confrontation with Rodolphus Lestrange.
"Merlin damn you, Pansy Parkinson, bloody fine, I can see you're not going to let up on this, damn it," he relented. "I guess it doesn't matter that I've told you 'no,' in the first place. You and Weasley here would just find a way to follow us anyways, I suspect, and then you two would only make things worse," Ollie angrily barked, pinching at the bone of his nose as though he thought he could squeeze out a solution that way that would keep Pansy safe and out of harm's way. "But you and George will wait outside, no matter what happens to me and Potter, you hear me?"
Pansy instantly opened her mouth to protest, her annoyance now overriding her relief that he'd relented and was letting her and George come.
However, the Auror halted her by raising a finger and pressing it to her lips, effectively cutting her off from speaking to her.
"Don't, Merlin damn it. Not one more word of you, Pan, I don't want to hear it," Ollie angrily snapped. "You and your boyfriend will stay away from the fighting, do you understand? I want you both to give me your word that you will follow my every order, no matter what it is, or else you won't be coming with me. If I tell you to flee, then you run like hell and get the hell out. If I tell you to fight, then you fight, if I tell you to get Norah and the other girl out and leave me behind, then damn you lot, that's what you're going to do."
Pansy flinched at the harsh tone of Ollie's words but then lifted her gaze and nodded, looking deep into the smoldering pits of blue that were the wizard's eyes.
"I promise," she whispered shakily. "The fact that you're trusting me and George with this is more than enough."
Only when she nodded did Ollie seem satisfied. He stepped back slightly and offered his wife's cousin his arm.
"Let's go then, if we're going, we can't wait around any longer," he grunted, looking thoroughly less than pleased that he was yielding to her, but he knew the longer they lingered, they wasted precious time.
Pansy hesitated for a fraction of a second before accepting Ollie's outstretched arm, George's hand-wound around her other arm.
Though before he could Disapparate to wherever it was Lestrange was holding Verity and Norah, Ollie and Norah's house-elf came scampering through the reeds that were taller than she was, her short dark hair wild and disheveled as she seized on tufts of her hair and began pulling it out in clumps.
The poor little creature who barely came up to Pansy's knee was near hysterics as she flung herself at her masters' feet and began tugging on the man's sweater sleeve, begging him to reconsider what he was doing.
"Master, you's must promise Vimly that you's will be careful! Lestrange, he's is evil! He's is no match for you, Master Oliver, even with magic! Why won't you's let Vimly come with you, Vimly can help, sir!" the creature squeaked, her eyes growing three times the size as her gaze desperately flitted between her master and Pansy.
"No, Vimly," Ollie growled in a low voice that was almost bordering on sounding cold as he looked down his nose at her. "It's too dangerous for you. I would have you kept safe. You're more valuable to my family back at home. But make no mistake, I will call for you if we need you. Go."
Vimly hesitated, biting down on her bottom lip, large fat tears rolling down her cheeks at the thought of letting her Young Master go off alone, but she could not disobey a direct order from Master Brennan.
The house-elf briefly shot Pansy a pleading look as she numbly nodded her head. There was no point in Vimly trying to change Master's mind once made up. He was stubborn that way.
"Young Special Miss, you's must promise to take care of Young Master Brennan! Promise Vimly, miss!" Before Pansy could say anything, the house-elf bounded forward on the balls of her tiny heels and practically clung to fistfuls of Pansy's dress.
The little creature looked up at Pansy, her huge, bat-like ears drooping in her worry and concern for Ollie's safety and well-being on this rescue venture of theirs was touching, it truly was. Her voice had gone up an octave and was shrill.
"Vimly! Let go of her right this instant!" Ollie shouted, his voice a harsh bark that made them all jump, even Pansy. "Enough! Go! Do I need to say it again a second time, elf?" he growled, the edges of his thin lips curling upward into an almost feral-looking vicious snarl.
It was enough to send a shiver down Pansy's spine.
"Ollie! That's enough! She's worried about you, that's all this is!" Pansy scolded, shooting him a rueful look, though she tore her gaze away from Ollie who flinched and looked back down at Vimly.
Before Ollie could further scold his family's house-elf, she knelt into a crouch, so she was almost at eye-level with the man's house-elf and looked Vimly squarely in the eye.
"I promise that I'll keep him safe, Vimly. Your master will return home to you, Vimly." She breathed deeply and spoke softly to the distraught house-elf. "I don't want you to fret over your master, Vimly," she told them.
Pansy felt Ollie come to stand directly behind her, she felt and watched the man's elongated silhouette looming over where she knelt on the ground still in a crouch, covering her and Vimly in shadow, but she did not tear her gaze away from the elf.
"I can take care of myself and so can your master, Vimly. Listen to me." She drew the creature's attention from the ground that the elf was fixated staring on, seemingly struggling, and failing to blink back her furious tears. "Your master has reasons to come back to you, Vimly. Nothing is going to keep your master from returning home to you. I promise he will come back. I can give you my word," she swore to the mystical house-elf with a brave smile.
Only upon hearing the witch's words did the house-elf seem somewhat supplicated, the worst of her near-hysterical fit pacified, though she looked once more towards Ollie for confirmation.
Pansy followed her gaze as she slowly rose to her feet, wincing at the stiffness in her joints from the cold air. Ollie offered a slight incline of his head and Vimly take it upon herself to turn on her heels and go, though not before shooting his family's elf the tiniest of smiles. Well, it was more like a smirk, Pansy noticed, as the edges of his lips twitched upward, but it was enough.
Only when her master shot her that look did Vimly decide it was time to obey. The loud deafening crack! of Vimly Disapparating and leaving her master in the trust of a witch she did not know very well spoke volumes. Ollie awkwardly turned his head to the side and coughed once to clear his throat as he straightened his gait and offered her a pained grimace.
"I'm sorry for that, Pan, I don't know what Vimly was thinking," Ollie apologized, looking pained. "She's…" He hesitated, searching for the right words. "Protective," he decided at last. "I don't know what she means by it. I've told her not to fret over me, or Norah."
Only when Vimly was gone did Ollie once more offer Pansy her arm. She hesitated for a fraction of a second before accepting the man's outstretched arm, with George clinging to her other arm. She knew Ollie and Harry were taking them somewhere and to someone dangerous, and yet, she couldn't be afraid.
She wasn't sure if she should feel troubled or not she only felt thrilled.
The blood beat loudly in her ears, her heart rising with the promise of a real and spectacular fight. It would be a fight that she hoped Ollie had regained enough of his strength to win and dispose of the wretched bastard who had taken her cousin and her friend.
She prayed that neither of them was hurt. She hoped Ollie wouldn't disappoint her now. Without saying a word, she wound her arm around his, resting her head against George's chest as George squeezed her other hand. She closed her eyes.
She wished they had a vial of Felix Felicis for luck, but to have this moment, this perfect, glorious moment before Disapparating to wherever it was Ollie was taking them—was enough. She could only hope that it would be enough to pull him through.
Reluctantly, after a moment, Ollie pulled apart from the warm embrace but continued to keep his hand wound around hers, for which Pansy was grateful.
He clenched his jaw and fought against the lump forming in his throat. He prayed that they would return home with Norah and Verity in tow, and that both were unharmed.
As George pulled Pansy tightly against him and turned on the heels of his dragonhide boots to Disapparate and follow Ollie's lead as the older wizard vanished on the spot, a steady rain began to fall.