After all the stories she'd heard about the Shrieking Shack, Pansy never thought that she would gather the courage to go in by herself. But that dilapidated house was the very place she had been sleeping for the past two nights. Even with the bit of money she'd withdrawn from the bank, she knew that it would all be gone if she stayed in inns again, and she didn't want to risk some greedy fool out for her parents' money finding her. Staying in a haunted estate for a few days had seemed like a reasonably good idea, but Pansy was slowly beginning to regret the idea, especially after what she'd found when she'd awoken.
It was in a second floor room on the collapsed bed on which she now sat, two letters spread out beside her, where she decided that something was wrong and that it was time to leave this place.
Pansy winced, gripping to the sheet as a sharp, sudden cramp stabbed into her abdomen. Her eyes instinctively went to the ragged sheet she had slept upon where a string of islands of bright, crimson drops had been left behind last night.
That's not supposed to happen. I might not know much about pregnancy, but I know that blood isn't good. . . . And for a moment, she wondered if everything was over, if it was gone now. It. Her baby.
"No." Her eyes burning, she put a hand over her stomach, caressing the spot where she imagined her child's head to be. "I can still feel. . . . Not dead, there's not enough blood," she assured herself.
But there will be. There will be more if I don't get help.
Pansy stood, her body aching as if she had twisted and turned all night. She tasted a bit of bile bubbling up in her throat and sat back down quickly, before she lost her meal. She hadn't been able to keep down food over the past few days, and that alone had weakened her drastically. Simple movement left her dazed and disoriented.
After a moment to regain herself, Pansy reached out, snatching up the letter she'd found in her pocket. A part of her thought it was from the night Draco had came to see her, but that was impossible. She would have known. . . .But the only other option was that he had somehow slipped it to her when she'd left the Weasley woman at Madam Malkin's shop.
"He couldn't have gotten that close without me noticing," she reasoned. Nevertheless, he had left it behind, apparently, somehow.
"I have told you that no one is to be trusted, and that holds true. However, people can still be used. If you need something, don't hesitate to take it—even if it's something that you'd normally refuse with all of your heart.
Don't go without for me, love.
D."
Pansy found it odd that he had went to no means to conceal this message. In fact, it looked very much like it was quickly jotted down at the last minute. For such simple words, they felt so desperate coming from him.
"Not like him at all," she said, thinking of her lover. Very few things could undue him when his mind was set, and she wondered what could have made him risk getting this note to her. She brushed away the worry, knowing that it would do her no good, and looked back down at the object on the bed.
Beside her was the invitation to the Weasley wedding.
Pansy shook her head. "I'd rather go face my parents! Better them than those muggle lovers," she snapped, glaring down at the piece of paper.
But could you? Could you turn back now? It would be so easy—it wouldn't hurt you a bit. In fact, it would help you, and your parents would be so happy to have you back. I bet they're worried, scared of what could have happened to their little girl.
They'd take your child away, give it to strangers far away, sure, and they'd never let you see Draco again, but luxury would be yours—a warm bed, a healer to coddle you to health, money. . . .Draco's worthless, a man wanted for attempted murder, accounts probably frozen, place in society dwindling away, a dead man for not completing his task for the Dark Lord. And a baby? You're a child yourself—what makes you think you can raise one? And by yourself—yes, alone, because your silly boyfriend will be dead by the time it's born. Stupid, naïve, Pansy. Poor little flower, go home. It's where you belong.
She found herself hating that voice.
Her voice.
"No—my Draco," she answered, realizing that he was reason enough to never turn back. She had promised him, and he wouldn't leave her alone. . . . Never. "My little baby. . . ." She let out a shaky breath, crushing Draco's letter in her fist. No one was taking either of them away. "They're mine."
She picked up the invitation, letting out a hiss of breath as a cramp seized her, bringing tears to her eyes. Pansy bit her lip, frustrated. There was nothing worse than needing help from an enemy. But if she wanted to keep what was hers. . . .
"Damn it," Pansy growled, drawing her wand and putting the tip against the card.
End Notes: I haven't forgotten about this story. Sorry about the wait, but I needed it. I'll be updating sooner on this. I hope you enjoyed this development. Review with suggestions or comments. Thanks so much for reading.