With You

by Ydream08


Chapter 2

Not that Pansy was asleep (Merlin knows how long she has been tinkering with the useless ring for bloody nothing), but the banging on her door surely gave her a start.

"Who is this?" she asked to the closed door. No way in hell was she opening it; her wand was at the ready. Pansy had to think twice about potentially using it though. Lost or not, attracting Aurors for using magic on Muggles would be disastrous, and could be the last thing she did before she really got disowned.

"Lady Parkinson, open the door now!" came the urgent voice of the Strider, she would not mistake him. He sounded insistent.

Pansy thought about her options.

If she went ahead and hexed Strider, and Aurors Apparated here that very second to catch her, there was no discussion that tomorrow the news would be front page in the Daily Prophet along with a few adjectives like Muggle-hater, Pureblood elitist, Death Eater-supporter and so on. Between all of that, not including the bit about how she had wrecked the marriage of the war heroes (Granger and Weasley) would be nice of them in fact, and quite impossible.

Another downside of this option? Pansy had a good hunch that if such news ever got printed, her parents would disown her for good. There was no doubt that they wouldn't be furious at her.

Then, of course, there was Azkaban on the line first. Realizing that repercussion, Pansy was quick to come to a decision. No magic, she reminded herself while lowering her wand.

"Tell me one good reason–"

The knock resumed over her, so she couldn't help but think: They could excuse her for self-defense, though, right?

Following a thud the lock of her door gave in. Huh. Not much of a high-quality accommodation here was, apparently. Pansy gasped and cleared the way. Instantly Strider stepped in and clasped her forearm.

"Come, there will be explanations later."

Oh, she wouldn't be dragged away like this! Fuck her parents, fuck even Azkaban! Who did he think he was, this Strider? Manhandling her this way! Such humiliation...

"I'm not coming anywhere, with or without explanation. Take your hands off me!"

Pansy was just about to cast a hex when Strider abruptly stopped, turned and caught her off-guard with how he took hold of her free arm too, and immobilized her. She shrieked at the motion, the incantation of the spell died on her lips, as trapped as she was in the Strider's hold.

She could see each crease of his skin, the roots of his beard, colours of his irises. Ridiculously she noticed the allure of his eyelashes. Blinking, she tried to look anywhere but his face, but aside from the small peaks of the inn room, all else she saw were the Strider's broad chest and layers of clothing covering it.

This was far too close for propriety, and Pansy never experienced such close contact with a male that she had not set her mind to seduce in the first place. It was always Pansy Parkinson who has been the tracker, hunter and achiever.

"I know you don't trust me. Sadly, I do not have the time to make you trust me. I will just tell you this... You wished an audience with the wizard, right? I am set to meet him at a place far away. And a meeting? That, I may arrange for you, ere we leave together now."

Of course Pansy didn't trust him! But at the moment that was the least important thing he uttered. Focusing her mind on what was important (definitely not Strider and his masculine scent), Pansy searched his eyes to confirm his honesty. His firm expression with the slightest of alarm could only mean he was unlikely to lie. If Pansy knew one thing having been brought up in the pureblood high society, that would be that lying could be as natural as breathing to the right sort of people. She was not sure if this Strider was anything like herself.

His offer was a gamble, obviously, and Pansy was not a fool to go along with him because of a pretty face and her womanly hormones lowkey responding to him.

"That, and you will bring me back right here," Pansy added to the deal. There was a reason she had been brought to this inn by whatever magical source. If she was going back to London, if everything else failed, she should come here and reverse whatever the hell - spell or curse - that has happened.

"I cannot give my word on that," he gritted out. "It is dangerous times and we are set for a distant place. It would be better if you stayed there. Much safer than here, I can assure you that."

Pansy scowled, she was not eager to basically get kidnapped. Tightening her grip on her wand, it was a split second decision to either reveal her identity as a witch (her wand was exposed with how Strider held her at the moment, come to think of it) or go ahead with whatever game that was on and let herself be dragged away.

These Muggles would not corner her like some mouse!

"Confringo!" she hissed, the force of her spell sent the Strider against the wall. He yelped at the impact, but surprisingly quickly found his footing and drew out… was that a sword? A fucking metal sword? Meant for cutting people like...like a butcher?

"M'Lady, I don't know who or what you are–" Strider looked alarmed for a whole different reason now. There was apprehension in his eyes as he seized her up, coupled with disbelief. He kept staring at her wand. "–but I mean no harm."

Pansy snorted at that, her lips curling into a sarcastic smile. "No harm? What about that sword? Is it for cutting vegetables?" She ignored how he slightly lowered his sword.

"Believe me, I mean no harm, yes, but the ones coming will. And they are after that ring of yours."

That gave Pansy a stop. How could he know anything about the ring in her possession? His eyes lifted from her wand to her eyes, trying to make her understand. She didn't understand, but his honesty forewarned her for the better.

"You told me..." Pansy whispered, apprehension came only now. He had commented on the ring at the main room of the inn. And previously, they had locked gazes upon her arrival to this damn place, but she had not thought how it could have looked for a person from outside. Much like Apparition, she must have appeared out of thin air. And the first thing she had done was take off the ring and hide it away. It must have looked suspicious.

You appeared out of nowhere into this inn, Pansy recalled his words again, but she had been so bloody busy freaking out about going to London and this frigging ring that she had dismissed the man's knowledge. She had only viewed him as a bloody destitute and meddlesome scoundrel. (Had she really thought him handsome? He definitely was not.)

"Yes, milady. I told you. I saw you appear by magic," he confirmed. His wording made Pansy's hackles rise.

He took a cautious step forward, lowering his sword. "They are coming for that ring, and they will not spare you when they see you are a woman. They shall spare no one."

Pansy was no Gryffindor to even think to declare she was a witch and could duel her way out of any confrontation, whoever were after her possession. That was simply not an option.

Running away to where ever Strider had in mind of taking her left nothing to be desired, but the plan Strider presented was what she had at the moment. Staying in this inn would be a fool's idea, if what this Strider said was indeed true. If someone was after her.

"How do you know they are coming? Who are 'they'? Why are they coming for the ring?" Pansy demanded.

"Come with me now, there will be time to explain later. We must be safe first."

Strider sheathed his sword and held out a hand. Pansy scowled at the gesture. She didn't like being told what to do. It was one thing to be led in a ballroom, and another to be ordered around.

"If you are lying," Pansy hissed, closing the distance between them while pointedly ignoring his outstretched hand. "I will make your life a living hell. That, I can promise you."

Strider's hand closed into a fist where it hung, but it took him a few more moments to lower it. He didn't look to be agitated, perhaps slightly disgruntled, but his eyes searched hers in an absurd awe.

"As the lady says," he finally said, shrugging. Then, showed the door. Pansy gave him a sharp nod, and after taking her bag and cloak, left the room. Strider following her close behind.


A headache split her skull into two. No joking. Pansy groaned at the dull pain, but thanked Merlin a thousand times over that it was around four in the morning and nobody was awake to make a noise that finally snapped her into a rage fit.

Hobbits. Fat adult-looking children, freaks more like it. They had no use whatsoever unlike goblins or house-elves. Neither creatures Pansy had ever favoured being in the presence of so these Hobbits seemed to have that in common, she supposed. But really... for people set out for a mission, they appeared utterly incapable and air-headed.

Then there was a mad wizard, Gandalf Grey, who appeared far too elite to attend tonight's grand meeting (Salazar help her if that was the wizard to get her home). He had left a letter, which the innkeeper had forgotten to deliver earlier apparently.

Strider, or Aragorn as his actual name was revealed, was a rogue wilderness lover (friend of the wizard) who was a loony for asking random questions and baiting those poor Hobbits about his alliance, teaching them caution and all.

Oh, and there was a Dark Lord, Pansy learned from Aragorn. He had set her aside after the talk he had with Hobbits, much later than when the innkeeper had dropped by and left. It had been the hardest thing to do, to stay silent and listen. Strider's command before they entered to this parlour had been explicit: Observe but do not intervene, Milady.

Aragron gave his word that the whole tale would later be told to her, but all she needed to know was that the Dark Lord had ruled over these lands once upon a time and now years after his defeat he wanted his ring to get his power back. It was his most precious weapon. And his underdogs were after it, tasked to retrieve the trinket, the Black Riders. Those were the ones Aragorn had been warning Pansy about. What a fantastic situation! Rings any bells?

Aragorn hinted to Frodo Underhill (the least ugly of the Hobbits and the one she had seen who conversed with Strider) that the child, no Hobbit, was in possession of something that was being sought. Pansy could only assume was a special ring (hence her involvement in this mess). So the Hobbits bussiness to cross lands safely was utmost priority, which Aragorn aspired to convince them for his inclusion to the party.

Of course, during the conversation, from where they sat, Strider - Aragorn - had looked over Underhill's head to lock gazes with her, too. Pansy knew what that look meant. What that quirk of his eyebrows and challenging tilt of his chin meant.

All had clicked at that instant.

Her ring had something to do with this, Merlin-curse-it. And thinking back to it, whether that Dark Lord of theirs wanted more than one ring, she didn't know, but a ring was definitely targeted. A magical ring. That was why Aragorn wanted her to come here and join them (possibly to their journey as well), so that she would be safe. All of them could be safe in the ambush of those underdogs (Ringwraiths Pansy recalled them to be named).

Bloody fantastic.

Aragorn could be wrong about her being in danger, because when he briefed her about the situation later that night, he had said 'the One ring', and she had thought Aragorn believed it to be in Frodo's hands. However, Pansy didn't want to take any chances. She had a cursed ring, whatever power it possessed had caused this mess she was currently in.

Not that she had revealed her business to all those fat children. They inquired about her, though.

"How do we trust who you say you are, sir? You already tricked us once. And who is this lady, listening to our private affairs?" had demanded the fattest of the children at some point. For Pansy, they were named the least ugly, the fattest, the loudest, and the least bright. And that was putting it kindly.

Yes, the fattest had asked, the one with dirty blond hair. Underhill had called him Sam, if she wasn't mistaken.

"Lady Parkinson," Aragorn had intervened, not that Pansy would have deemed that boy with an answer even if she was allowed to speak. Twat. "is on her own journey, a road similar to ours as she has told myself. I could not deny the lady when I told her I knew the shortest way possible, maintaining discretion and safety. I could not deny her protection from those Riders. And for her involuntary involvement with your situation, allow me to say she has different concerns and shall not participate further than necessary."

Pansy had done her best not to laugh at that, or grin to spook those children more. Underhill, the least ugly one, seemed convinced enough with that so Pansy had watched the group brush away her presence.

It had been easily done, Pansy thought back, as the Hobbits were exhausted and wished to retire to their beds, and quickly fell asleep.

Of course, as the minutes ticked by, Pansy had been unable to sleep. Aragorn came to her to explain all those Dark Lord bussiness, not that it was longer than a few sentences. But ever since having a big picture of the situation, Pansy could not find in herself to sleep. She had to go home, not sleep. Her grandfather had only sent her to Burke's, for Salazar's sake!

With those thoughts in mind, minutes turned into hours, and now she sat by the window and looked over the blue night crowned with the moon.

Come morning, Pansy was going to ask around if Aurors had come by. This freakshow aside, she knew that the spell she had cast earlier on Aragorn should have alerted the Ministry. That was the last hope Pansy currently held onto, to find a way back to London (though she was indecisive whether she should run away without inquiring with how her spell casting had earned her a one-way ticket to Azkaban). After that, the very last resort was the Grey wizard.

Though deep down, Pansy had a feeling she was very far away from London indeed.

After hours of thinking about it, failing to Disapparate no longer upset Pansy equally; of course there was a limit to the distance of the destination, so Pansy could have simply been brought via Portkey (a.k.a. the ring) to some distant country. Overseas perhaps. However, the fact that no one knew of England shot a tingling fire to her brain. It made her uneasy. It made her desolate. It made her think she was far away, as in somewhere not London… not abroad…not on Earth... oh, Merlin, she didn't want to think about it! Admittingly existence of creatures called Hobbitsmade her get the wildest ideas.

Resting her head against the cold window, Pansy acted to be carefree of Aragorn's silent approach. She had noticed his rising in spite of her inner turmoil.

Pansy had known he had not slept. Only Hobbits managed a deep slumber under these circumstances it seemed. However, she had thought the man would remain in his bed, unmoving as he was the past hours, and leave her on her own.

There was not much to look behind and beyond the window, simply darkness coating the fields. Her eyes were downcast, vision blurred in that nothingness, despite the fact that she knew looking up at the twinkling stars and the bright moon was an option.

Pansy didn't want that.

She wanted to be in her filthy little apartment, living the life of a poor half-disowned pureblood and die alone. That had been her life. She had loved it. She had learned to love it.

She didn't want to be in this darkness. Live in these dangerous times. Hear about the rising power of the Dark Lord. All Pansy wanted was to be by herself in her lonely apartment, and dream herself a life where she wore the finest and richest gown one could purchase in Wizarding Italy to the grandest and most prestigious event in the Pureblood society and show up in the arms of the most handsome and purest wizard eligible. She wanted to cry herself into sleep dreaming about that.

She wanted her normalcy. Her life back. All that War had taken from her.

Pansy didn't want Aragorn standing at the otherside of the window. She didn't want him to even out his breathing to match her own. She didn't want him to join her in her silence.

The stupid Muggle had come to her, seeking to lend his protection, outright grovelling and unacceptable in his poor attire. No manners to speak of! No magic to begin with! No name to even mention!

Merlin what was wrong with her? To find this man even attractive? Where was Pansy Parkinson, heiress to the Parkinsons, few of the remaining high-standing pureblood families?

Why was her life not returning to how it was supposed to be?!

"You are weighed by heavy burden, are you not, Lady Parkinson?" came a slow question.

Pansy shifted, her forehead still tangentially on the window, tears clinging to her eyelashes and one of them at the tip of her nose. She felt that stray one. She sniffed. "Wrong, Strider. Don't expect to know anything about me. You don't even get to ask."

There was a long silence. Her head buzzed. Pansy wanted a tissue to wipe her nose. Crying was for the weak. How low had she fallen!

Glancing furtively at the man who had not moved, but absently stared past the window, Pansy's eyes caught the glimmer of an object at his chest. It was hard to distinguish its shape, but Pansy knew a valuable jewelry when she saw one. It was white. Perhaps quarts, topaz or moonstone?

"You are weighed by a precious necklace, though," Pansy shot. The absence of the woman was an explanation enough: a token from a dearly missed lover. If he wanted to be nosy, Pansy would be nosy as well. "From a lover, I bet. Is that what she left you? Pretty enough."

"She is the one I love, yes," Aragorn replied, irritated. Perhaps it was because of Pansy's smirk that urged him to explain more. "It is very precious to me. She is very precious to me."

"Where is she?" Pansy asked immediately. Jealousy soared and clutched at her heart, digging its claws to urge inquiry.

The shift in the air, the tangible shield of his feelings, explained more of his heartbreak. He murmured, "Far away."

She snorted, not that she could help it.

Pansy had been in the Battle of Hogwarts. Her brilliant idea of handing in Harry Potter had cost them, the Slytherins, to be locked up, but the upper years had found a way to the courtyard. It wasn't a pleasant place to be.


I need to find Draco. I know he is here somewhere, Greg told me so! They must be out there duelling!

All the shouts, cries, spellcasting bombard my ears. My heart jumps at every explosion, but I have to find Draco. He must be in danger, that idiot! Why didn't he tell me anything? No matter how shitty he behaved to other people, Draco has always been truthful with me. Secretive, yes, but truthful. He is an ass most of the times, but I loved him regardless.

Where is he?

I see a brutal kill, nothing I can distinguish from this far away, but… I get closer to look. Is someone being bitten off? Literally? What is wrong with Avada Kedavra? Why get all that blood and gore on your outfit?

Then, I see who it is: Greyback. That lowly birth. Monster.

He sees me as well. I don't know why he looks at me intently; but I register that the body falling from his grasp has blonde curly hair. I can see the outline of someone feminine.

His next steps are toward me. I gasp, my mind drawing blank at what to do. I see him coming, he is getting closer, his jaw is open, claws out, and he is almost running on all fours…

I am yanked away by something, and next, a spell blinds my eyes. I feel secured by a hand over my chest, pushing me behind, and from across the shoulder of the person I notice that Greyback has been blasted off across the yard. That was a bloody powerful spell.

"Are you alright, Parkinson?"

I raise my eyes to look at my saviour, without him I would have been werewolf meal. Not only that, as I heard from my parents of Greyback's tastes, being bitten off would be a kind death. Why that scum sided with the Dark Lord- or rather, why did the Dark Lord let him be his lackey, I never understood.

"Parkinson, it's not safe, you should hide."

His voice brings me back. I'm looking at Thomas. Can't remember his name. The black Mudblood from Gryffindor.

I glance back at where Greyback had been blown away.

"That scum was going to kill me," I murmur. Shite.

Draco, where are you!

"I'm sorry, Parkinson, I can't stay…" Thomas was saying now. "I just saw Lavender...and I had to do something because you were… whatever. You chose your side."

He walked away, ducking from spells as he ran.

I should… I should go, but my legs don't move.

Where am I supposed to go? Draco wasn't here with me… Forget him, only Salazar knows where my parents are! And what am I to do here out in the open? Shoot spells? I failed DADA two years ago and dropped the lesson!


Pansy closed her eyes to the assault of the memory. She hated being helpless and alone. Looking back, she didn't think Draco ever loved her, or even cared about her for that matter. Her parents had not been on the Hogwarts grounds that day as well; they had fled the country, thinking she would be safe in the school under Snape's care. They had said it to be a holiday to the courts. Such hypocrisy…

So, yes, it was funny that now, this man standing next to her, was pining over some lover who was far away. Pansy doubted the woman cared whether Aragorn was in peril. Why leave him to his fate if she loved him?

It was said in the magical lore, that the strongest love built a bond that, much like a miracle, a Disapparation could follow and find the destination of.

"If she loved you, she wouldn't be far away," Pansy whispered. It was true. If she learned one thing from the twenty-six years of her life, it was that those who loved you always found a way to be close. That was why she was alone. Nobody loved her. Not that she loved anybody.

"Love cannot be measured by mere distances," Aragorn countered calmly.

Pansy blinked, coming back to the current moment indefinitely. She turned to him. He looked out the window still. The only difference from moments ago was that he clutched at his necklace, the pendant unseen in his big hand.

It took some time for him to remove his gaze from the outskirts and look back at her.

"If you believe that, it is sad," Pansy explained. It was one thing to think one was unloved, but other to think one was loved but never able feel it. What was it to gain from love that wasn't there when you needed it? "Days pass, years pass, while that distance might not ever be removed. Then what? Is it enough to believe you are loved?"

Her parents never kissed her, hugged her, made contact with her. The most that ever transpired could be the faint brush of her mother's hand when in company. Or a nudge, or pinch. Those were to warn Pansy.

Her grandfather only ever patted her back, for a job well done. That was fine. It made him Pansy's favorite relative by far.

Her fiance of one year, all those years back, had not touched her once. Not even a kiss on the back of her hand in greeting. Perhaps a handshake, she hardly remembered with five years having passed.

She had sex with Draco and Weasley, and a few blokes after that. And truthfully, regardless of how temporary those moments had been (mere hours) they had been the only times she remembered being loved. Skin contact. Primitive, but a solid proof of she was capable of being loved.

Far away meant no skin contact. Far away meant no words to be exchanged. Far away meant eyes unable to find each other.

Then what?

"That distance… Is it enough to satiate your heart? Your soul? I might be a wretched person," Pansy thought back to how she had spoken out to give up Potter. She had humiliated that Mudblood Granger countless times. She had called names. She had laughed at many people, even at those she said were her friends. She had fucked Weasley, knowing that he was married. She had yelled at her parents, told them to die and stuff their wealth somewhere (among many other things). She had even stolen/borrowed a necklace from her grandfather's store (but put it back after wearing it overnight).

Pansy tried to control her wavering breathing, then spoke again. "I might be a wretched person, maybe I deserve to never find love (Merlin decides that), but even I wouldn't wish on someone something as cruel as being deprived of the person you love for the sake of love while believing all that time that you are actually being loved."

His hand no longer held his necklace. He held onto the window sill and looked at her. Pansy wasn't sure what she saw in his face. As a scowl furrowed his brows, she guessed him to be both shaken and angry.

"Whatever," Pansy spat, angrier at herself. "Goodnight."

A grasp on her wrist stopped her, but she didn't find his eyes looking at her when she spun around. His eyes were fixed where his fingers closed around her wrist. Pansy felt the skin there heat. It was a firm hold; it hurt.

Aragorn released her, then sharply turned his back.

Pansy was frozen on her spot as she watched him lean over the sill of the window. His head sagged. After a few moments, the side of his face peeked out but she hardly saw his eyes.

"Good night, Lady Parkinson," he rasped and moved to the window.

It didn't require a genius to know she was dismissed. Blood boiling, Pansy harrumphed and went to lie down in her bed.


Hello,

Thanks to all five of my reviewers, I will reply to all of you after my exam on Friday but I was able to squeeze between this chapter, so I hope I will be forgiven :D (For the guests... Guest 1: I hope I will surprise you with the continuation :D ; Guest 2: I'm overjoyed that you loved Pansy! And truthfully, if someone said they were indeed looking for Aragorn/Pansy fic, only then would I be shocked! LoL. I aim to make the pairing one that you all never knew needed it, but turns out you really did! Hope you liked this chapter! )

Just general info. I am currently reading the LoTR series, finished the first part of the Fellowship so Frodo has only arrived in Imladris, BUT I watched the movies. That being said, when I googled Aragorn's necklace, I found out that it was a token from Jackson in the end. Since I haven't read the books, this only proves that I will inadvertently be basing this story by the movies. Again, I don't plan it to be as long as three movies, so it won't likely go along with my reading pace either.

THERE COULD BE INACCURACIES I'm sorry for them in advance. Warn me if they are glaring.

Take good care!

Ydream08