CHAPTER 21
THE following morning, the sound of ominous thunder that crashed outside roused Pansy from her sensual dreams of last night. The storm hadn't let up since last night, a few hours after they had all left to Little Hangleton to retrieve Verity and Norah from the likes of Rodolphus Lestrange, and had continued incessantly throughout the night and well into this morning.
The folks who lived in Ottery St. Catchpole in Devon had never seen such a slow-moving monster of a gale. Her senses as her eyelids fluttered open hadn't quite come back to life just yet and she stirred at the space beside her.
Only when her fingers clutched at a fistful of the sheets and she could not feel George did she fling her eyes open, realizing she had woken up to an empty bed. She sat up, urgently, clutching the blanket tightly around herself to preserve her modesty as she urgently searched the bedroom for any sign of George. There was none.
Desperately, her mind flitted back to another memory, the morning Draco had broken up with her by the Black Lake, and she'd woken up alone after falling asleep with him curled under a blanket in the Slytherin Common Room.
No! Pansy thought frantically, her mind desperately working to create a scenario to explain George's absence.
She was terrified that perhaps what the two of them had shared last night had caused her boyfriend to have second thoughts about their relationship, and he was leaving her, just the way that Draco had done.
Not him, she told herself. He wouldn't do that to me…would he? Her mind raced with a million possibilities.
Her body flushed with warmth, despite the coolness of the darkened bedroom. She could still feel George.
Her fingers traced the line of her neck, and she closed her eyes, wistfully imagining the way his lips kissed her below the ear, one of his new favorite places to kiss her. She thought she could almost hear the way she had moaned his name last night each and every time he filled her ringing in her ears, causing her cheeks to burn bright with shame.
Then she remembered George had thrown up a Muffliato Silencing Charm around the door and let herself relax a bit. Pansy bolted from the bed and dressed quickly. She barely noticed her shaking hands moving deftly as she worked to dress, grabbing the clothes that were resting on top of the chair near the bed that someone, hopefully, it had been George, had laid out for her. Just a simple loose white t-shirt and black lounge pants, but it was better than venturing downstairs into the Weasley's living room stark naked.
Her clothes that she'd haphazardly removed herself of last night as though they had personally offended her were now gone. She wrenched open the door, frantically working her fingers through her hair, grateful that she'd cut it off, that it stayed sleek and straight when she kept it chin-length, and that George had said last night that he liked it this length, he liked to be able to see her eyes, that she, like a lot of other girls, couldn't hide behind their long hair to use as a shield. She padded barefoot into the bathroom to quickly brush her teeth and ran back out into the hallway, leaving both the bedroom and bathroom doors wide open in her haste.
Still, no sign from the room that her cousin was holed up in, she noticed with a heavy heart as it sank to the bottom of her stomach.
Finding no one in the kitchen, which was something of a shock to her, as Pansy had fully expected Mrs. Weasley to be at the cooker making something truly amazing for breakfast as she always did, Pansy decided to search outside in the backyard, wondering if perhaps the gnomes were out of hand again. She bolted out of the back door and towards the barn, heading towards the vegetable garden that grew beside it, expecting to find George in the middle of assisting his parents.
Her heart fell further when there was no one outside, either. Pansy stood, shocked, unable to determine the next course of action. She ran her hand through her hair in shock and confusion, as she stared into the vast emptiness, grateful she was protected from the rain and mud from the Water Repellant Charm she had thought to cast before daring to step outside.
A voice from behind her shook her from her thoughts.
"Your boyfriend had to run to the shop to close up for the day, with Miss Raywood in St. Mungo's, he can't run the place on his own, even with Ron's help. He asked me to tell you he'd be back in a half-hour, that he had an errand that he wanted to run, alone."
Pansy spun around to find Ollie staring at her, blankly so, devoid of any identifiable emotion. His blue eyes were cracked and red-rimmed at the edges, his face pale, and his jawline was prickly with a five o'clock shadow that Ollie would need to shave off, and soon. He looked to have not slept an ounce, and suddenly, Pansy felt guilty at the experience she and George had shared last night, all the while poor Ollie looked to have lain awake all night, fretting and worrying over the welfare of his wife and unborn baby.
She took a deep breath, partly to calm herself, but mostly out of relief that she'd been wrong in her assumption.
George was coming back. She frowned.
"Did he say where he was going? What errand?" she asked, but to her disappointment, Ollie shook his head.
"No. He didn't say, and I didn't ask. I try not to get involved in other people's business if I can help it, Pan." He almost let a ghost of a smile flit across his lips as he studied her. "You ought to try it sometime, Parkinson," he rolled. But just as soon as he'd made his quip, and let himself smile for a second, it was gone, and his expression became serious again. He continued. "He said he wouldn't be gone long. No more than maybe an hour or two. But he said he didn't want to wake you up, to let you sleep. The others are off in Diagon Alley doing some shopping. No idea when they'll be back, either." Ollie shoved his hands in the pockets of his black trousers and narrowed his gaze and studied Pansy's attire and flushed cheeks with a scrutinizing gaze that made her feel as small as an ant. "You really like him, then? Weasley? George really means that much to you?" he asked, almost non-judgmentally so.
She hesitated, almost afraid to try to read Ollie's blank expression, though it was clear the Auror expected an answer. She wasn't sure if the Legilimens were reading her mind or not, but she breathed deeply and forced herself to answer him.
"I do, Ol. A lot. More…more than I ever felt for Draco, mate. That should tell you something about my shitty life choices, right?" she added, a slight teasing lilt to her tone as she tried to smile, though she couldn't bring herself to do so. Not with no word yet this morning on how her cousin was faring. She paused as she let her gaze flick once over Ollie's haggard-looking form and flinched. "Merlin's Beard. Jesus, mate. You look like shit. Did you sleep at all?" she asked, suddenly concerned when Ollie shook his head no. "What? Did you crash on their couch, or did you go home to Vimly?" she asked, knowing as soon as the question was out of her mouth that it was a stupid thing for her to have asked. Judging from the looks of him, he'd slept on the sofa.
His face was pale and groggy, his black hair tousled in such a way in reminded her of Hary's hair, sticking up in tufts and not wanting to lay flat for a second. Ollie hadn't bothered to borrow any of Bill's clothes, as he and Bill were about the same size, though Ollie was slightly stockier in the chest. She had a hard time not staring at the bloodstains on the man's black turtleneck sweater and knew without even having to ask that the blood that permanently stained the wizard's clothing was Rodolphus Lestrange's blood.
She had an inkling that even if Mrs. Weasley insisted on cleaning his clothes and getting the stains out with a well-cast Scorgify Charm, Ollie would want the stain to stay. To remember. To remember that he was the one who had slain his wife and Verity's tormenter and that he never wanted to forget it.
"But Norah, Ollie, how is she? H-have you heard anything from the Healer yet? What's going on with her? Is Norah...? The...the baby...?" she asked, with fear shadowing her hopes that he had not yet mentioned his wife.
Ollie ran a hand over his drawn and worried face, raising his red, tear-filled eyes to the dark stormy sky above their heads, remembering every wonderful moment he'd spent with Norah.
He'd stopped imagining anything but life with her years ago when he had first started dating her. He knew if something went terribly wrong and she succumbed to whatever hellish torment Rodolphus Lestrange had put her through, then he would follow her to the afterlife by the tip of his own wand.
Before he could open his mouth to say anything, and just as the dark thought left his mind, the Healer from St. Mungo's walked through the back doorway and out into the late stormy morning air to find Norah Brennan's immediate family members.
The St. Mungo's Healer was deliberate in his motions, and his lined and careworn face showed the exhaustion the man would not allow his body to feel for several more hours yet.
Ollie turned, unsteady on his feet, with Pansy gripping onto his arm for support as they both turned around fully to face the man who held Norah's life and the life of the Brennan's unborn baby in his hands.
Both of them exchanged a worried glance with one another, not liking the wizard's impassive expression that the man wore.
"My wife, Healer Jones, how is she?" Ollie desperately implored the man, his frantic gaze searching for any hint of news. He cringed as the Healer steadily lifted his gaze and looked at him, the wizard's light green eyes heavy and tired.
Taking a deep breath, he delivered the news to his patient's family.
"She made it through the night, Mr. Brennan. She will be well enough, in time, with care and rest, and your baby is just fine," he reported, a wary small half-smile finding his cheeks as he spoke.
Ollie practically dissolved in relief as Pansy grabbed at his shoulders and shook him, letting out a cry of delight.
Ollie turned and embraced the Healer, summoning just a little of the Obscurial's repressed strength, and nearly drew the shorter, older wizard off his feet and almost cracked two of the poor man's ribs.
Healer Jones smiled, awkwardly patting the Auror on the shoulder, happy he could bring good news, but in fear of his ribs.
"Sir…please…my...my ribs...hurts...please, I beg of you, put me down, Mr. Brennan, sir..." he wheezed, his face reddening, staggering backward the moment Ollie set the wizard down on his feet once Ollie realized what he had accidentally just done.
Pansy smiled as she watched the relief wash over Ollie Brennan's exhausted and worried face like a tidal wave, and he turned to smile at his wife's cousin, though it did not escape her attention that the Healer did not quite share in their joy.
However, that could have been because he was currently clutching at a stitch in his side and doubled over in pain, wincing at the pain in his likely bruised ribcage.
But somehow, she thought there was more to it than just that.
"What? What is it?" she asked, taking note of the rather odd expression on the middle-aged wizard's lined face. She quirked an eyebrow at Healer Jones in suspicion as she stepped closer. "Norah, sir, how is she? Is there….is there something wrong? What is it?" she begged, not sure she wanted to know the answer, but at the same time, she knew that both she and Ollie needed to hear it.
She bit down on her lip and waited anxiously for his answer. Ollie noticed the Healer's expression and his good mood instantly soured. The edges of his mouth turned down in a frown as he waited for the Healer to search for the right words.
It was a moment or two before Norah Brennan's colleague spoke, lacing his hands in front of his middle.
"Your wife has gone through quite an ordeal, Oliver, I trust that you know that I don't need to tell you as much," he said, his light green eyes darkening as his tone and facial expression grew more serious, as he fixed the Auror with a rather pointed look that neither Ollie nor Pansy were sure what to make of. But before they could ponder it further, the seasoned Healer continued. He was still cautious of declaring Norah Brennan fully mended and wished to impart the seriousness of the Veela's current injuries. "She is not out of the woods just yet, Mr. Brennan." The Healer immediately tempered Ollie's happiness. "She hasn't woken up yet, and there is a risk of infection to the wound that was inflicted upon her knee. She was stabbed in the knee and again near her collarbone, though the lacerations aren't deep, they're still enough to warrant cause for concern. Though I believe that with bed rest and proper care, she will make a full recovery and be as right as rain in no time, sir. I would recommend advising your house-elf to prepare an assortment of light foods for her over the next few days, things that will not upset her stomach. Soups, chilled pumpkin juice, hot herbal teas, all of those would be fine."
"I—we—need to see her, Jones, please," Ollie begged, his worry returning as he cast a worried, sideways glance towards Pansy.
Pansy remained silent, squeezing onto the man's hand for support. She wished she could think of something to say to Norah's coworker that could convey her gratitude.
Finally, after a pause, she found her voice.
"Thank you, sir, I…you—you've saved my cousin. I don't know if there's any way that we could repay you."
The older wizard was quick to dismiss Pansy's words with a curt shake of his head, pursing his lips, narrowing his gaze.
"Neither of you nor Mrs. Brennan owes me anything, dear. This work, healing poor souls, is what I do. It is merely the nature of this job, though there are always parts I don't like," he heaved a tired sigh and shook his head to himself to clear away the tired fog beginning to settle in his brain, forcing himself to return to the more important matter. Divulging the news of his patient.
He blew out a deep breath and continued.
"She is resting. I've given her a Calming Draught and a Sleeping Draught, for now, she'll likely be a bit woozy when she regains consciousness. And I would be regretful if I did not advise both of you, but especially you, Mr. Brennan, sir, to keep your emotions in check. You need to remain calm," he emphasized, desirous of making his meaning quite clear. Before either one of them could say anything, Jones's expression became clouded with a look of major annoyance as he stalked forward and leaned in so the tip of his nose was almost touching Ollie's. A muscle in the older wizard's jaw began to spasm in ire as he pushed his silver rimless spectacles back up onto the bridge of his nose. "And, if I may speak freely with you, Mr. Brennan, for a moment, sir, forgive my candor, but I don't ever want to see you or your wife on my roster ever again. This—this Obscurial shit is too much for me," he swore, wildly gesticulating to Ollie's broad form with his hand, his face reddening in anger as he made to gather up his briefcase.
Pansy grimaced and tugged on Ollie's arm the moment she thought she saw the deep blue of the wizard's irises turn black before flicking to all white, the telltale sign that the Obscurial within him was growing restless, and that an episode was coming.
She felt anger well within her chest as she wondered if Ollie had always been subjected to this sort of scrutiny ever since the parasitic force had attached itself to his body, to his soul.
There was a strong part of her that severely hoped Ollie consented to whatever it was that Lyall Lupin and a few of his colleagues at the Ministry of Magic hoped to do, that the supposed procedure he wanted to try would rid her mate of the monster within him.
She frowned and tried to shake off the Healer's rather rude comment and send his words away.
"Well, we—we still need to see her, sir," she pleaded, unable to conceal the relief in her tone as it seemed her gentle touch on his arm, feeling her arm wound around his, seemed to bring Ollie back to himself somewhat.
The Healer nodded.
"But of course. Follow me," he said in a much kinder tone than before and turned on his heels to lead the way, the hem of his bright lime green robes that were almost an assault to the eyes billowing with his strides. Healer Jones swiftly led the way out of the storm and up the staircase of the Burrow. He held the door open and allowed Ollie to enter first, and then Pansy, before stepping inside.
Pansy slowed her gait upon entering the room, wanting to hang back and give the man a minute with his wife.
Norah lay unconscious and motionless on top of the bed, covered by a brightly textured patchwork quilt that looks to have been handmade by Mrs. Weasley, who had a knack for crafting.
She was already in the middle of knitting Pansy her very own sweater, as well as a little hat for baby Brennan whenever he or she would make their way into the world.
Her skin was faded and pale, looking more blue than white with how banged and bruised she was, the bruises where Rodolphus Lestrange had given her one hell of a beating creating a stark contrast against such pale skin.
She appeared more dead than alive and would have been a prime candidate for one of the Dark Lord's reanimated Inferi, Pansy realized with a jolt that caused bile to rise in her stomach. One glance to the side at Ollie was more than enough and nearly broke her heart right there on the spot.
When he saw her, his legs buckled, and he darted to the bedside to perch himself on the edge of the mattress before his strength could leave him completely. He took her left hand and held it to his lips, kissing her bruised knuckles with as much tenderness as he could manage. It made Pansy want to weep. He stroked a few wisps of her blonde hair out of the way and bent his face to his, whispering her name. Ollie lingered over Norah, his tears falling upon her skin. He raised his stricken eyes to her face, his rough and calloused fingertips tracing the familiar lines of his wife's cheekbones. His mind flooded with the memories of all the moments they had shared, and visions of the life that he hoped to still enjoy with her and baby Brennan whenever it was born.
Pansy stood numbly at the foot of the bed, alongside the Healer, and respectfully gave the man the time he needed.
Finally, Ollie spoke up, his hoarse voice a broken rasp.
"My wife, Jones, when will she wake up?" he said dryly.
Healer Jones awkwardly turned his head to the side and coughed once to clear his throat.
"That's…that's hard for me to accurately say, sir," he stammered, suddenly flushed and nervous. The last thing he was equipped for was to handle an outburst from an Obscurial. Just being in the presence of one attached to an already temperamental bloke like Auror Brennan was, was enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end and his entire body went rigid. "H-Her body had been through a great ordeal," he explained slowly. "She has to heal. That might take some time, and…" He paused, suddenly sounding so unsure of himself.
"And?" Ollie questioned in a vicious-sounding growl that nearly elicited a high-pitched shriek from the shorter, stouter wizard right then and there on the spot as Ollie turned slightly in the older wizard's direction.
Yet he was not willing to remove his eyes off Norah. There was a part of him that feared the reason that Jones hadn't finished yet.
The Healer cleared his throat a second time and spoke.
"Er…well…there is always a chance of infection, and there is a possibility your wife might develop a fever as a result of all of this," the Healer continued, keeping somber eye contact with Ollie, who seemed to be listening intently and hanging onto the experienced Healer's every single word.
"Is there no other way?" Pansy asked in a shaking voice. "What, you're saying my cousin's life is still in danger, mate?" she blurted out, forsaking her manners for the moment as she turned and proceeded to glower at him.
"Nothing is for certain, I'm afraid," replied the Healer, his tone for the first time since his arrival here at the Burrow revealing any signs of sympathy for the husband and cousin of their institute's Welcome Witch who he was always fond of.
Norah was always kind to him, ensuring he took his breaks on time or sneaking little pieces of chocolate in the front pockets of his robes while making the rounds, insisting that he was far too skinny, he needed some meat on his bones, or he'd never land that date with the Muggle florist he'd been summoning up the courage to go and talk to for the better part of at least three weeks or so.
He shook his head to clear it and continued advising his coworker's immediate family, forcing his mind back to the present reality.
"Mrs. Brennan here will need constant supervision, not just on my part, but yours as well. Your wife, with her pregnancy, is in a very special, yet critical condition. I would have to warn you both not to let her become delved into too much anxiety," the Healer cautioned. "I will do what I can for her and come by every couple of hours to check on her, but it will be a trying few days, you must both be prepared." His lips were pursed tightly. "Some light chicken broth would go a long way in helping your wife's recovery if she's hungry when she wakes."
Pansy immediately groped for her wand and muttered a curse through gritted teeth as she realized she'd left it on the night table by the bed in Percy's old bedroom. She'd been in such a hurry to look for George she'd forgotten to grab it.
"Of course, let me send a Patronus to Vimly, Ol, and I'll ask her to make some!" she offered, darting out the door and down the hallway as fast as her legs could possibly carry her, skidding to a halt in front of the bedroom door and darting through the entryway.
By the time she had sent her message, her Patronus's form of an eagle flying high in the sky, heading towards the Brennan family's estate in the countryside, and made her way back to Norah's room, the Healer was finishing up his closing remarks to Ollie.
"…You're damned lucky, Mr. Brennan," the Healer was saying to Ollie as the two wizards lingered just outside the bedroom. "Your wife is fortunate, to have so many people who care about her. You must be very special to her if she was willing to marry a wretched Obscurial like you and make no mistake, I only came here last night because I do not wish to see Mrs. Brennan harmed. I would see our Welcome Witch returned back to work, and soon. She is missed. Her, I like, but you... I don't give a damn about you, boy, I know what you are. You're just like your father, you Brennan's are all the same, every last one of you, but Norah is your one chance of redeeming yourself. Please don't make me regret my decision to come here. Please, Mr. Brennan, I would love to be proven wrong about you. But with all due respect, I hope that I never see you or Mrs. Brennan either, as one of my patients ever again. Care for her, keep her safe," he said gravely, the man's expression as grim as a graveyard, no hint of jest or joking in his tone or in the man's eyes. Without another word and a begrudgingly respectful nod towards the Auror whom he had always admired but feared, the Healer turned on his heels and disappeared down the stairwell and out the front door before Pansy or Ollie could say anything.
As Pansy and Ollie stared at the space where only moments ago, the Healer who had saved Norah's life stood, hearing the man Disapparate once he stepped foot outside, she felt the anger begin to well up within her.
She could not believe that someone who her cousin worked alongside would treat her husband so horribly.
It was the same rage that fired in her heart when the entire student population of Hogwarts had turned on her when she'd let her fear get the better of her and had blurted for someone to grab Potter when he'd made his presence known to the rest of them.
This time, however, it wasn't shame that burned within her, but a fierce pride and protectiveness for the only family she still had left. How dare that pompous bastard act as if Norah loving Ollie was something of which her cousin ought to be ashamed?
She slowly turned to face the man.
"I—I'm sorry, Ol, he—he shouldn't have been such an arsehole to you. Are you…used to it?" Pansy apologized to Ollie, embarrassment bringing an unwanted blush to her face.
Ollie sneered, casting a rueful glance towards the downstairs front door. He looked as though a part of him wanted nothing more than to go after the Healer and make the wizard pay for his snide remarks, but he stayed put.
He looked thoughtful for a moment before letting out a sigh.
"Don't be, Pan. C'mon, let's head downstairs. Norah will likely be asleep for a while longer, and I want to make her something to eat in case she's hungry when she wakes. Probably Vimly will stop by soon with whatever she's whipped up too. I can make you something too, if you've not eaten anything yet, which judging by the sounds your stomach is making, I take it you haven't," he grunted darkly with a shrug of his shoulders, a slight smirk tugging his lips upward as he heard her stomach growl loudly in agreement at the mention of food.
He chuckled dryly, though his laugh did not reach his eyes. If anything, those deep blue orbs were bitter.
"Do you think I haven't heard those words before, from other people, in other places? I'm used to it by now, Pan, you don't need to worry about me, I'm an Auror. I've heard worse, and that comment from Jones isn't going to be the last," he barked, beginning to head downstairs to see what he could do about preparing something light for breakfast.
His stomach elicited a painful growl, causing him to let out a loud and pained groan from the back of his throat, reminding him he'd not eaten yesterday, too worried and preoccupied about his wife and child's survival to even think about eating any food last night. He continued addressing the issue as Pansy saw no other choice but to follow him downstairs as Ollie headed into the kitchen.
But before Ollie could head towards the cooker, Pansy beat him to it, reaching for the frying pan near the stove that Mrs. Weasley hadn't gotten around to putting away and swatted his hand away as the Auror began to roll up the sleeves of his ruined sweater and shot him a rueful look.
"Get away," she scolded, scrunching her nose in disgust at the stench of dried blood that his clothing reeked. "You reek, you smell like shite, Ol, you smell like blood and death, mate," she snapped, an edge to her voice that wasn't there before. "Let me handle this. Go shower, change your clothes, and Merlin's Beard, Ol, run a comb through your hair. You've got blood all over your clothes, and God, it's on your face! You're a sight for sore eyes, mate, you really want Norah to wake up and see you looking like that?" she asked, quirking a thin dark brow Ollie's way.
She tore her gaze away from her cousin's husband as she sauntered barefoot towards the fridge, pulling out the items necessary for a staple breakfast. Eggs, a jug of milk, strips of bacon, sausage links, everything she would need to start a fry up. She smiled and nodded to herself. Good eats.
"Guess not, just…don't burn down Arthur and Molly's home, we'll never be invited back if you do and you and I both know Norah can't cook to save our lives, why the hell do you think we come over here every week?" Ollie joked, cracking a white smile that Pansy couldn't help but return as she cracked an egg into one skillet and laid down strips of bacon on the other skillet.
Something of the wizard's genuine warmth was contagious and even to this day, she knew the man's smile alone made witches who passed him by, weak in the knees. She kept her gaze on Ollie as she watched him quit the scene of the kitchen to head outside the Burrow to Disapparate, likely to return to their manor to shower up and give their house-elf an update on Norah's physical condition.
By the time he returned, showered, clean-shaven, and with a fresh change of clothes, Pansy had finished cooking everything for what was sure to be the best breakfast she'd had in the last several days, and she was pleased to see George walk in behind Ollie.
Pansy's face brightened considerably to see the smile George shot in her direction, warming her several times over. The way he was smiling at her caused a tingling warmth to seep all throughout her body, starting from the roots of her hair, all the way down to her bare toes. He genuinely looked happy to see her, as if just a couple of hours away from her was entirely too long.
She turned around to fully face him.
Part of her wanted to punch him for the worry he'd caused her. However, most of her wanted to throw her aching arms around George and hold the wizard close and never let the man go if she could help it. She strode towards the kitchen table and stopped short just before reaching up and staring up at George Weasley in wonder, her mind echoing, 'he came back.'
Then, her gaze flicked down to something he held in his hands, the reason for his little errand that had caused him to want to seemingly wake up before the sun fully rose. She gaped at what the wizard held in his hands, wondering if she was imagining it. She could only stare numbly as George pressed it into her hands.
She glanced down at the small object in her hands, hardly daring to believe what she was seeing was real. One quick glance in front of her towards Ollie's expression told her he was just as shocked as she was.
"I...it's good to see you're back safe, I was starting to wonder where you'd gone off to. Norah's going to be just fine, she...she's sleeping, but I thought we'd make her something when she woke up, so I cooked,' Pansy blurted out, relieved to see his smile widening at the news that her cousin was going to be just fine, but as quickly as his smile had come, it faltered as he watched the confusion on her face form. "I—I don't…wh—what is this, George? This is what you were up to, what you left here for so early?" she asked shyly, holding up a small key to something or someplace foreign.
George shrugged his shoulders as if it were nothing at all.
"It's a key, Pan, what does it look like?" he asked, his tone holding a slight teasing lilt, to which Pansy rewarded him with a rather bashful but proud snicker as she curled her hand around the little brass key and gave her wand a rap with her other hand.
She tore her gaze away from the key in her hand only for a moment to supervise her magic as it worked to ensure the plates of food and plates to eat off of were set on the dining room table for just the three of them.
"Well, yes, I can see it's a key, Weasley," she barked, somewhat sarcastically, "but…a key to what? Why give me this?" she asked breathlessly.
"To my flat, Pan." He spoke the words as though George thought it should have been obvious. "You can come and go as often as you like. You've obviously proven you're good at causing trouble, someone's got to keep an eye on you, so it might as well be your dashingly handsome boyfriend. I even made some space in my closet for a few of your clothes, that's why I took so long, I was moving some of the furniture around so you'd have an easier time getting about whenever you do come over," he joked, though the wizard's brown eyes were solemn, glistening, and deadly serious.
Pansy was at first unable to speak, silently thanking him for his kindness with glistening, tear-filled eyes. She made a vow to herself that later tonight, when they went home, together, to his flat, that tonight would be when she'd give George his gift.
She could only pray that he'd like it. "I…thank you, George, you—you have no idea how much this means to me," she managed to choke out after a moment, her voice barely more than a whisper, her eyes suddenly filling with fresh tears.
"It's nothing, Pan. I gave you that key because I wanted to," he answered softly. "Because…I want to keep you around."
Suddenly, the distance between them was entirely too far. Pansy reached out her trembling hand and rested it on top of his forearm.
Staring deep into his eyes, she breathed in a low hushed tone that only George could hear, "Then…keep me. Have me. Keep me, like you mean to please me. Make me stay."
He moved closer, aching to kiss her, his arms yearning to be filled with the witch's perfect frame, a fire igniting in his chest at the low husky tone of unmistakable desire in Pan's voice. He wanted nothing more than to take her and kiss her.
But with Ollie currently seated across the little dining room table, watching them with somewhat of a bemused expression on his face as he kept his head rested in his hands, and his elbows propped up on the table, it was admittedly difficult.
Pansy furrowed her brows into a frown as she noticed her cousin's husband offering her a coy smirk.
"Don't," she warned him, a fiery heat creeping to her cheeks as she watched Ollie open his mouth to speak. "Don't you bloody say one word, Brennan, or I'll engorge your tongue, and something tells me that's the part of you Norah will miss the most," she only half-jokingly warned.
A wistful expression found Ollie's face as he scrunched his nose in disgust and pulled a face.
"Merlin, Pan. Do you kiss your boyfriend with that mouth? Better not let Norah hear you talk like that, or she'll renege on our offer to let you be baby Brennan's godmum, we don't need your trash mouth influencing our kid, Pan, Norah's bad enough on her own without your help. I've had to get Vimly to set up a swear jar at home for her to watch her language. Any time she slips up going forward, she's to put a Galleon in the jar. I give it till July and the damned thing will be full up, just watch," he scoffed, rolling his eyes, though the smile that lit up the older wizard's face was a relief to see, George thought, as the three of them sat down to eat.
Before they dug into the delicious meal that Pansy had gone to painstaking lengths to make, Ollie raised his glass of orange juice and gave his wife's cousin and her new boyfriend a wide smile, unwilling to allow any misgivings or doubt to show on his face.
"To true love, then. I guess my wife and I will have to get used to seeing you around more, Weasley," Ollie toasted, his tone slightly teasing.
George grinned hopefully, and so did Pansy as they too raised their glasses of orange juice and met their glasses to meet Ollie's gesture.
"Hear, hear," they both answered in unison. Their toast finished, and the three of them moved to help themselves to food, not speaking for a few minutes as they piled their plates high with the food Pansy had cooked.
Ollie was quick to compliment his wife's cousin's cooking, saying if she kept it up, she would soon be up to speed with Mrs. Weasley, and then she and George might have company every week if they would let him and Norah come over.
His compliment, however, gave Pansy pause as she looked at him.
The question was ripped from her lips before she could stop herself.
"Don't you two ever eat at home?" she questioned, not intending for her question to be taken by him as an insult.
She grimaced as she watched Ollie, who had been about to take a sip of orange juice from his glass, lower it, suddenly looking weary.
"I…we…no," he confessed, after a moment of silence, causing Pansy to think she had immediately overstepped and began cursing herself for asking the question. "With my varied schedule for the Ministry, and Norah working random shifts for St. Mungo's, our time together is short. We're almost never home at the exact same time but a few times a week, so when we are, we usually go out to eat when we can," he said.
Pansy nodded quietly in understanding. She studied Ollie quietly for a moment, her eyes raking over the man's features over the rim of her glass of orange juice as she took a swallow. She exhaled a shaking breath, chewing on the wall of her mouth as she slowly set her glass down, taking her fork and toying with her food. She thought over her words carefully.
She was sure there was never a better time to ask him how he'd come to have such a horrible creature attach itself to Ollie's soul, and the fact that only Norah knew the truth and flat out refused to speak of it, to Pansy's mind, spoke volumes.
She sniffed hard against the tears of relief and joy that were forming at the edges of her eyes. She quickly wiped a trail of water from her cheek with the back of her hand as she spoke.
"How did it happen, mate?" she asked, almost embarrassed to ask, but she thought that given everything that happened, she had a right to know. "Your…er…problem, Ollie? What in god's name was so horrible that was done to you to cause...that...to attach itself to you? You've never said."
She lowered her head, suddenly timid, and eyed her cousin's husband from the corner of her lowered gaze, unable to meet Ollie's hard gaze. Ollie stared dismally across the table at Pansy, slowly lifting his glazed-over burning blue eyes to Pansy.
She cringed, swearing she saw a tightening of the man's jaw.
But what was it? Self-loathing or hatred? Or something more, something worse? Was this her cousin's husband she saw, the man who joked with her, offered her advice on wizards her age, who loved her cousin in the way that Norah had always deserved, or was this the look of the monster that inhabited his body and had a vice around the man's very heart and soul? She couldn't tell, but whichever it was, it sent poor Pansy swallowing hard and instinctively reaching for George's hand underneath the table.
When he spoke, he sounded almost angry with her.
"It's not a pleasant story, Pan, and it's one for another time," he barked, immediately rising from his place at the table, a look of intense concentration on his face as Ollie's brows furrowed. She knew that look well, too. This was his Reading face, what she'd called it when she was younger when the Legilimens would dip into someone's mind and read their private thoughts.
"What? What is it?" Pansy stammered, just as Ollie held up a hand and interrupted her, stating that they would continue this conversation later, that Norah had regained consciousness and asking for him.
He left her alone with George without a word. Pansy frowned, watching him disappear out of the Weasley's small dining room and kitchen. Her face held more of a sad gaze for too long, and it immediately worried George, to see her like this.
His first thought was they should be out either at the shop to take her mind off the ordeal her family was going through or out somewhere, anything she wanted to do, anywhere she wanted to go, he would take her. She needed only to say the word.
"What is it?" George asked Pansy worriedly, helping her without complaint as she began to clear the table of the dishes.
Pansy shook her head, pursing her lips into a frown.
"He's all…closed up inside. I'm not really sure how to explain it," she huffed, slamming the dirty dishes into the sink with more force than was necessary, her knuckles white with the effort to steady herself as she gripped onto the side of the sink. "I think he's hiding, even from himself, George," she admitted, very softly.
"That's why he needs you." George was sympathetic.
"But I don't know if he'll let me in," Pansy lamented. Her voice was hushed, almost a whisper. For a moment, George wasn't even sure if his new girlfriend had even spoken at all.
He understood and hoped to instill some hope and encouragement into the witch if he could.
"Just keep trying," he encouraged, moving to bring his arms to rest around her waist.
Pansy nodded, staring out the window that was in front of the kitchen sink for a moment, chuckling to herself as she watched a few garden gnomes fight over a particularly large turnip one had pulled up, and were now going at it in a truly ferocious battle of tug of war.
It took a moment for her to find her voice again.
"I love him, George, he's like a brother to me. I just don't want to see him hurt, ever."
The furrow of worry and confusion between her brows deepened. She breathed out a steadying breath and closed her eyes, letting out a sigh of contentment as George began to gingerly rub one of the knots that were forming in her shoulder.
She let out a tiny moan of satisfaction and rolled her neck to crack it as she let him continue while she continued on with her explanation.
"I'm sure there's going to be consequences for him losing his shit at the Ministry when he…when he found out about Norah. He loves her, George. He would do anything for his wife, and his future child. He's going to make such a good father to their kid," she said, a wistful smile at the thought of the two kind souls upstairs, hopefully now enjoying one another's nearness now that Norah was awake.
She had been tempted to follow Ollie's footsteps and see her cousin now she was up but recognized that the man needed time alone with his wife. She'd see Norah later.
Her care and compassion for her two surviving family members who were kind to her showed overwhelmingly on her worried face as she turned to face George.
"Did you…er…sleep well, last night…after…" Pansy stammered, suddenly trailing off as she felt a fiery heat seep into her cheeks.
He nodded, smiling at her shyly in a way that made her heart careen against her ribcage. She hoped this feeling never faded.
"I'm sorry," he murmured affectionately and reached for her hand. "I had that errand to run, and I didn't want to disturb you, Pansy."
"I didn't even hear you get up and leave me this morning. You should be proud."
"Hmm?" George looked confused, quirking a brow at her. "Why?"
Pansy offered him a sly but patient smile. "Because…I was tired." A beat or two passed before the implication of her words sunk in. George's face reddened something furious as he looked away from her. She couldn't stop the snort that escaped through her nose as she wound her arms around his neck, pulling George down slightly. "I tease," she said. "You shouldn't be embarrassed."
"I'm not," he insisted passionately. "I'm just…I just…I never…" He paused to collect his thought. His brow furrowed for a moment, but then George's entire face softened, and then he looked bewildered. "I just…never thought it would be you that I wanted to be with, Pan."
She rested her head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat. "I never thought that, either, George," she told him softly. "But it happened last night, and I'm glad of it," she said, pulling back a bit in order to study the wizard's tired but cheerful expression. She chuckled softly as she reached up a hand and brushed his fiery red bangs out of his eyes. Slowly, George met Pansy's gaze, and though the blush never left his cheeks, he seemed at least a little comforted.
With a sheepish smile, he took both of her hands in his and held them.
"I'm glad too." With those words, it was he who closed off the gap of space between them with a featherlight kiss on her lips, hoping the next time she came to bed with him wouldn't be too far in the future.
Pansy was the first to break the kiss, pulling apart to study his face.
"Are you ready?" she asked softly as she brought herself back to the moment and what lay ahead for them this morning.
Shortly before they'd fallen asleep last night after she had given George the other gift that she had wanted to the very most, herself, he had mentioned wanting to take the morning to visit Verity in St. Mungo's. She would be spending a few more hours there and he wanted to catch her before she was discharged and went on to start her new internship. Following that, he'd expressed interest in taking her out to lunch. She smiled as George could no longer keep himself together.
"Aren't I always?" he retorted, giving Pansy a winking flash of his dark brown eyes and an upswept brow as he held out his arm for her to take. Pansy pretended to feign annoyance but swatted his arm.
"Not yet, I have to get dressed first," she protested hotly as she glanced down at her black lounge pajama pants and a white t-shirt.
George chuckled and followed the witch to the stairwell, content to wait down here while she darted upstairs briefly to change clothes.
Though she'd barely climbed two steps when a flash of realization hit her squarely in the chest and she staggered backward, feeling as if Ollie himself had just pushed her off the steps.
She felt George come up from behind and immediately pluck her off of the staircase as the stairs swayed dangerously beneath her.
She felt George spin her around so she was facing him, but she did not truly see the wizard, looking past him as he peered worriedly into her face as she realized something very important.
Something she'd forgotten about until she had watched Ollie disappear up the staircase of the Burrow.
"Fuck," she cursed under her breath through clenched teeth.
"Pan?" George's voice sounded distant and muffled, as though he were speaking to her underwater. "What's wrong? What is it?"
She blinked rapidly a couple of times, the wizard's face slowly coming back into focus. His eyes were wide and round with fear, his lips were parted. He looked as though he had an unvoiced question.
"I—I need to go to the Ministry before we stop by St. Mungo's to see Verity, it's urgent, George, you can go ahead without me, and I'll meet you there, but this is something that I have to do," she stammered in a small voice.
"What? Why?" George exclaimed in a sour voice. "What for? Why do you look like you just swallowed a wasp?" he snapped.
She frowned at the sarcasm in her boyfriend's quip, but ignored it, sighing. "I—I need to go, George. Right now. Before it's too late."
Without offering a more thorough explanation, Pansy bolted up the stairwell and rushed back the way she'd come.
George immediately took off after her, trailing closely behind on her heels, and watched her dart into Percy's old room.
He lingered in the doorway, watching her frantically run a brush through her sleek straight tresses until her chin-length hair was pristine and perfect, not a strand out of place. She applied whatever makeup she wore on her face daily with the speed of a witch who had gone raving mad and dressed for the day's goings-on in a pair of black tights, flats, a black dress, and a dark grey overcoat. The outfit itself was sexy as hell and flattered her figure, but entirely too fancy for just visiting Verity.
After a moment of watching her fumble to secure her wand around the belt now cinched around her waist, George stepped inside.
"Pan, will you just slow down and tell me what's wrong?" he pleaded, his voice gentle but earnest, and his expression worried.
At the sound of his urgent request, the witch seemed to come back to him and herself a little and skidded to a halt in front of him where he blocked the doorway, fumbling to hoist the strap of her purse over her shoulder. Her wand hand was clenched tightly into a fist.
She looked ready to bolt and run right past him, but George was not about to let her try. He refused to let himself believe she'd flee. After everything they'd talked about, what they'd done last night, he knew Pan wasn't about to leave him high and dry without a word. He knew Pansy Parkinson better than that. She exhaled, frustrated.
"Listen," she said eventually. "I know this isn't what you want to hear, but it's very, very important that I go to the Ministry as soon as the Records Department opens. I need to find someone's address, there's a good chance that Ollie might lose his job at the Ministry because of that…that thing attached to his soul, and he directly went against Shacklebolt last night. You were there, George, you saw it. He's family, George. Merlin only knows how many times he and Norah have helped me out of a bind. Now it's my turn to give something back if I can. I might know someone who can help…"
Pansy flicked her gaze down and stared at her shoes, a frown tugging her mouth down into it almost formed a deep groove.
"Who?" George pressed her gently for details. "Who is it?"
She hesitated, but only for a fraction of a second as she lifted her gaze.
"Professor Horace Slughorn. I know you don't know who he is, you wouldn't have taken his classes. He took over Potions after you and Fred left. Snape took Defense Against the Dark Arts, Slughorn taught Potions and the old coot plays bloody favorites. Maybe he'll have a connection in the Ministry who can pull some strings, and let Ollie keep his job. He's going to become a father, they need the income."
And without another word, she ducked past George, ducking underneath the wizard's outstretched arm, and hurried past her boyfriend, down the hall, to the stairs.
She called out to him over her shoulder.
"I won't be long, I promise! I'll meet you at St. Mungo's? I just need twenty minutes!" she shouted, without waiting for his reply. Pansy all but flew down the stairs and disappeared from her view.
When she was gone, George stood rooted to his spot in the hallway for a moment, wringing his hands and bracing himself against the confusion that was now running through his mind at a speed he could not slow down for the life of him.
It was unfair, he thought, that such a wonderful night spent last night with her could be followed by a morning filled with uncertainty and dread over her family's future, but he was touched at the lengths Pansy was going to for those she loved.
After a moment, he ran a hand along the side of his face in frustration and made a move to head towards the stairs.
If he had twenty minutes to kill before Pansy would come back and they could leave for St. Mungo's together, he might as well help Mum and Dad get a head start with some of the chores.
He could de-gnome the garden again. They looked to have been at the turnips a second time. Though before he could so much as taking one step forward, he paused when he heard a set of returning footsteps pound up the stairs.
George paused, smiling to see Pansy running back up the stairs. She rushed to him, all but threw her arms around his neck, planted the forgotten but affectionate goodbye kiss on his lips, and then vanished.