Stop the World, I Want Off
Chapter 2: The Enemy of My Enemy
There have been moments in the three months between Draco's arrival and Molly's decision that can explain exactly how Pansy Parkinson found herself seated on the Wealey's couch listening almost desperately to every word her hostess says. Molly will not tell Pansy about these moments because they are not hers to talk about nor will she inform the ex-Slytherin that she is acting on the advice of one Hermione Granger because, after all, Molly doesn't really know what sort of relationship those two have and she's not about to stick her nose where it does belong. At least, she's not sticking it in too deep.
What Molly does tell Ms. Parkinson is that the Order trusts her family. Despite being a Slytherin family, they have always fought for the right things. They are non-aligned but not without an obvious bias to the Light and, above all, their blood is not pure. It hasn't been for several centuries and that is quite enough to make them blood-traitors in You-Know-Who's eyes. The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
Having said that, Molly falls silent and stares through the window at the fog into which Draco disappeared this morning. Suddenly, she tells her guest that days like these are the worst because Draco does not stay in. Sometimes Molly thinks he wants to lose himself and, perhaps, fall victim to a bog. Unfortunately, she adds with a bitter smile, their area is rather bog-free.
Pansy nods, taking a demure sip of tea, and Molly sits back to study her. The effects of war are obvious even on this young girl who has not actually seen battle. She is not a stunning beauty but a face that could be considered pretty is marred by worry. Her clothing reflects the weather of late; dark gray and heavy. Not quite dressed for a funeral, she still looks like she is waiting for a death. What resonates most with Molly, though, is that under her eyes are the dark bags of a sleepless wife.
Sighing to herself, Molly rises from her chair and pours them each a fresh cup of tea, takes a biscuit and settles back into her chair. Pansy continues drinking, so very obviously on autopilot. When Molly is almost settled into the silence, her guest speaks. Pansy asks if Draco knows that she has been invited. Her nervousness informs Molly of secrets that separate, of promises and sacrifices made at an age too early. When Molly tells her Draco does not expect her, the tension that has been sucking the very breath out of the younger woman like a Dementor's Kiss lets up, if only for a moment.
"He told me not to look for him," Pansy says. He meant I should not wait for him.
"You didn't," Molly assures her. But you were waiting. Now, at least, you have company.
They wait together, another unlikely pair forged by necessity and the unique circumstances of war, peering through the fog for any sign of the return of the boy who defected.
TBC
Author's Note: About the "sleepless wife" thing; No, they are not married. About the lack of dialogue; I was making a conscious effort to avoid it but, in the end, it got me anyway.