A/N: I got a 92 on my dreaded, massive Auditing business case!! The horrible thing was the only thing standing in the way of me writing!! YAY!! Anyway, here's chapter 3. I have chapter 4 clearly in mind so it shouldn't take that long.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Chapter 3 – The Difference Between Apples and Oranges
Elbows perched on the armrests of his chair and hands tightly clenched before his hunched torso; Percy sat waiting in the small, musty office. Although he'd been left there on his own for at least twenty minutes, he was in absolutely no hurry to be joined by Pansy's healer. Her imminent arrival would bring with it confirmation of the end of his marriage.
He didn't need the woman to tell him his wife was gone. He'd witnessed firsthand Pansy's new, or rather old personality. Releasing his death grip, Percy reached up and slowly dragged his hands over his face, giving his cheeks a good scrub in the process. He dropped his hands and looked about tiredly. As long as the medi-witch stayed away, some doubt still existed as to the true state of Pansy's mind. Percy could still hope that she might regain her memory, and return to normal.
Suddenly, the door burst open, admitting a flurry of activity. Amazingly, it was comprised of a single individual. "Sorry about that, Mr. Weasley," the stout, little whirlwind puffed as she blew past him. "Seems no one felt the need to inform me they'd stashed you in here."
"Quite all right," Percy mumbled absently, only just then being drawn out of his brooding.
"Now, where were we?" she muttered more to herself as she flipped open the file in her hands, and laid it down neatly on the table in front of her. "Right. So…"
It was at this point that the matronly healer finally made eye contact with Percy and her expression instantly softened into a dreadful kind of sympathy. The woman's change in demeanor tore a massive gash in Percy's faltering hope. It held all the information he could possibly need.
"So," he countered with an air of resignation.
The medi-witch anxiously clasped and unclasped her hands in front of her and took a few cleansing breaths, steeling her resolve for the conversation ahead.
"Mr. Weasley, I… I need to ask you a few rather personal questions before we begin."
Percy eyed the witch warily but offered a curt nod for her to continue.
"Were you and your wife having marital issues at the time of her accident?"
"Excuse me?" he sputtered.
"Were you experiencing any difficulties of a domestic nature?" she clarified.
"What kind of ridiculous question is that? What are you implying? Are you saying that I was somehow involved in Pansy's accident?" Percy reeled back defensively.
"No, Mr. Weasley, nothing of the kind," she cut into his rant. "I merely… I've been reviewing the auror's report from the scene of the accident as well as their apothecary's report of the chemical compound from the potion she was brewing. Mr. Weasley, it would appear she was working on a very complex potion that was specifically focused on the marriage bond."
"Excuse me?" he managed, confused with the abrupt change in the direction of the conversation.
Healer Marshall shifted awkwardly in her chair and averted her gaze to avoid the piercing questions in his eyes. The man before her was obviously unaware of his wife's intentions.
When the healer didn't respond immediately, Percy pushed on. "What exactly do you mean 'focused on the marriage bond'? In what way?"
"We're still not entirely sure, but…"
"But you have an idea." Percy finished for her grimly.
"Yes, we do. The combined ingredients would seem to suggest that she was attempting to… to dissolve it. The bond, that is."
Percy sat motionless and wide-eyed for a yawning stretch of time. Healer Marshall was very nearly ready to ask him if he'd understood her when he shot out of his chair and began to pace blindly about the cramped office.
"If it's any consolation, she wasn't successful," she supplied lamely.
"It's not, thank you very much," Percy snapped back viciously.
"Mr. Weasley, you should be relieved the bond still exists."
He stopped and glared at her darkly, his eyes warning of the storm to come. "Relieved? Are you mental? You just informed me that my wife was, in essence, trying to divorce me. You seriously expect me to be relieved?"
The small healer breathed in slowly through her nose and willed her shoulders to relax down before responding in what she hoped was a calm, soothing tone. "I understand your distress over this news, Mr. Weasley, but…"
"You have no idea what I'm feeling so don't even try," he hissed at her.
Percy's words plunged the room into a thick, tense silence as he began to pace again, trying unsuccessfully to escape the tightening vice closing around his heart and throat. He should have seen this coming: Pansy's unmistakable distancing from him over the past few months, her cool, almost business-like detachment, and the total lack of intimacy in their relationship. The signs were all there, he had just chosen in true Weasley fashion to ignore them.
For her part, Healer Marshall had the wisdom to remain quiet, allowing the man in her office to work through his shock. Although she highly doubted that could be accomplished in the short time they had.
With little warning, Percy turned and fixed his complete attention on the medi-witch. "You mentioned the bond still exists?"
"Yes, I did," she confirmed.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. It's quite volatile and unbalanced, but it's definitely still there."
Percy nodded wordlessly and glanced about as if completely lost.
"That actually leads me to my second point, Mr. Weasley. Please, have a seat," she continued when she felt he was ready to move on with the conversation.
"I'd prefer to stand, thank you all the same," he challenged shortly, his eyes unreadable.
"And I believe it's better if you sit for this." The healer refused to back down.
He eyed her for a few long seconds then collapsed into the chair. "Why do I get the feeling this is about to get a lot worse?" he grunted as he hunched over and massaged his neck with both hands.
"Although Pansy seemed quite hostile toward you…" the healer began, ignoring his comment.
"Oh, you noticed that, did you?" he lobbed at her with a fair bit of snark.
"Mr. Weasley, please let me finish," she huffed.
"Sorry. Yes, please go on," he snarled, resting his elbows on his knees and looking down at the floor.
"Mr. Weasley, you're manner and tone are uncalled for."
His eyes shot up and pinned her with sudden ire. "I've lost my wife not once, not twice, but three times today. You'll excuse me if I'm having a bit of trouble coping," he bit out sharply, trying desperately to stave off the tremor creeping into his voice.
"Mr. Weasley," the healer cajoled soothingly, finally catching his meaning.
"Before I got here, I thought she might be dead or close to it. Then I find out that she has absolutely no recollection of me, or our children. Now I learn that she's been trying to leave me for months. Do I honestly look like a man who's ready to take on more?"
Percy bowed his head and finally allowed the grief he was feeling to claim him. Healer Marshall watched him, speechless. She was chagrined to admit it hadn't fully occurred to her what the true extent of his misery might be on learning these new details.
"Mr. Weasley," she started softly. "Percy, these are only our preliminary findings. The aurors still have to conduct a full investigation, and our healers have only been able to complete a partial analysis of her blood work."
"Please spare me your sympathy," he gritted out as he raised his head to meet her gaze, and wiped at his eyes with the knuckles of his left hand. "I have three children who now no longer have a mother."
"That's not exactly the case," she offered.
"Pardon me?"
"I know she seems unaffected by them, but I believe her connection with your children will overcome her memory loss."
"Oh, you do, do you?" Percy was beginning to lose his temper again.
"Unlike the marriage bond, the magical bond between a mother and her child cannot be severed by any means. It is an intrinsic part of both, woven in the womb from conception. Pansy may not consciously remember her children, but her attachment to them is obvious."
"What do you mean?" he pressed.
"Mr. Weasley, she performed wandless magic. We both saw her stop your son's fall. That's difficult under the best of circumstances. Considering her debilitated stated, I'd say it was nothing short of a miracle. Her bond with them is clearly as strong as ever."
"The woman I know would never speak to her children the way I saw her do today," Percy stated staunchly.
"She's trying to sort out some extremely harrowing emotions, and a reality that's completely foreign to her. I'd be lying if I said this was going to be easy or clear cut."
Percy looked down at his hands as they wrestled with each other for dominance.
Healer Marshall decided to soften her approach. "She may not be as loving toward them as what you're used to, but I can guarantee she won't allow any harm to come to your children. The instinct to protect them will be too strong for her to fight."
Without looking up, Percy bobbed his head in acknowledgement. "I hope you're right," he managed softly.
After allowing a few moments for this new information to settle, Percy started. "You mentioned a second point that you needed to discuss with me before I so rudely interrupted you?"
"As I said, the bond Pansy shares with you is quite volatile right now. So much so that it has the potential to warp her magical core."
"Are you saying she's still in danger?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Healer Marshall confirmed.
"So… So, does this mean we'll have to be kept apart?" he asked, fearful of the answer.
"No, quite the opposite actually. I know she was unkind toward you back in her room but believe it or not, your presence actually calmed her considerably."
"I'm sorry. What?" Percy stuttered.
"How do I explain this?" she mumbled to herself. "Because your magical core as well as your side of the bond are both solid and unharmed, you will be able to act as a stabilizer for her. She will need your constant presence to properly convalesce."
Percy blinked a few times in shock. "Does… does that mean I have to stay here with her?"
"Oh no, no, no. You can take her home… Today actually."
"Today?" Percy squeaked. "Isn't that kind of soon?"
"As long as she's with you, she should be fine. We'll have an attendant stay with you for a week or so to monitor her and tend to her medical needs," Healer Marshall chirped pleasantly as she stood and collected her files.
"You mean to keep her in line," he corrected.
"That too. I'll just go make the arrangements." And with that, the whirlwind was gone.
After a deep, haggard breath, Percy dragged himself out of the chair and began to meander about the office, perusing all the minor points of interest the tiny space had to offer. He allowed his mind to wander to the difficult time that lay ahead. Living with Pansy as she was now would be no easy task. Perhaps she wouldn't be too cruel once she was surrounded by her comforts.
Unlike the last time, the door eased open timidly and the portly medi-witch edged into the room, uncertainty marring her brow. "It would appear a miscommunication amongst the hospital staff has lead to your wife's early release."
"What?" Percy burst out loudly.
"It would seem that Mrs. Weasley somehow managed to contact her father, and insisted he come and sign her release forms. She left with him a half an hour ago."
An undeniable sense of both relief and dread washed over Percy at the same time. He had been granted a short reprieve from Pansy's wrath. She could never make things easy for him though, could she?
--
Pansy sat staring out the drawing room window onto the street, unwavering in her focus but lost to its actual intent. Three days. Three days she'd been home, and for three days this had been her compulsive existence. To either sit in this armchair and scan the passing traffic for what she did not know, or to wander through the many rooms of her father's house on her hunt.
The purpose no longer mattered as it had upon her arrival home. When she had initially crossed the threshold, the sense that she'd misplaced something was both overwhelming and exceedingly annoying. Now, she could only recognize the necessity to remain vigilant in her search.
After a few minutes of observing the world going about its day, her wearied mind drifted from its steadfast perch, and slipped easily into her daydreams. She'd long since abandoned her self-reproach over the Weasel and their litter. She'd spent the better part of her first day home interrogating her father as to the 'whys' and 'hows' of that particular nightmare. He had been about as helpful as McGonagall giving love advice. She suspected the incompetent fools at St. Mungo's had something to do with that.
After learning everything she could from the little he revealed, she had resolved quite logically that it made little difference to her anyway. That it was all in her past. They did not have to be in her future. She could do whatever she wanted with her life, the rodent and his critters be damned. Throughout the second day, she formulated a detailed plan to divorce the tosser as soon as she was fully recovered.
She'd take three quarters of what meager possessions they in all likelihood owned. He was a Weasley. How much could they possibly have? She had to leave him with something though. No one could accuse her of being completely heartless…. He could keep their offspring. As it was, she wanted nothing more to do with them and would never acknowledge them as her own. Visions of the drama she knew would unfold danced merrily over the stage of her mind's eye. It had been her main source of entertainment over the last few long days.
Suddenly wrenched out of her reverie by her intensifying fatigue, Pansy drew in a heavy breath. It flooded into her lungs and pushed achingly at her chest cavity to expand and accommodate its presence. She held the air within her for a few seconds, reveling in the brief respite stillness afforded her, then exhaled slowly. With the release of air, she felt her will to hold her normally exemplary posture escape her, and her shoulders sagged further forward, accentuating her growing slouch. A sharp, dry squeezing had begun to clench her eyes, making it difficult to keep them open, and she could feel the skin of the hollows beneath them twinge and prickle. At her body's subtle persistence, her eyelids began to droop and she felt herself being enveloped by a soothing darkness.
"And how are you this morning, Petal?"
Pansy jumped slightly at the sound of her father's voice and, with glazed eyes, turned her head sharply in his direction. Before fully taking him in, however, she allowed herself to deflate back into the warmth of the cushions and resume her dazed, fixed gaze.
"Morning, daddy," she mumbled quietly.
Robert Parkinson eyed his daughter covertly on his way to his desk, forcing down the sounding alarm in his head at her steadily weakening state.
"And what do we have on the agenda for today?" he asked jovially, attempting to infuse some lightness to the sickroom atmosphere.
"Nmm…" she hummed incoherently, as her focus was drawn back outside.
Robert Parkinson shook his head in utter despair. This shriveled, distracted excuse for a woman was not his irrepressible little girl. His precious flower was vibrant, and saucy, and thoroughly brilliant. Not some delusional obsessed with squirreling out hidden treasure.
He looked away swiftly overcome by painful memories. This was just too hard to witness - his princess devolving into madness. It was far too reminiscent of another wrenching loss. Unable to fight off the twisted need, he looked back at his child and fully drank in her appearance. Although she had always taken after him in spirit, she was the mirror image of her mother. And if he wasn't mistaken, she was the same age now as when her mother had died.
What had he done to deserve this? Did his wrongs in this life actually merit him losing both of his girls? It would be the most brutal kind of justice. He'd never been the praying sort but he was willing to do or give anything in that moment to have his Petal back. Hopefully the healers were right. Drawing his pocket watch from his robes and glancing at its face, he felt his patience wearing thin. Where, the devil, were they?
Abruptly, a knock came to the drawing room door. Parkinson's eyes snapped to the source of the sound. He schooled his expression not a moment later, and drove his eyes down to his work to conceal the relief washing over his face.
For her part, Pansy started visibly. Her heart began to hammer and she forced herself out of the chair as she stared at the door keenly. Anxiety pierced her like a tossed stone skipping over water. Each pang of nerves rippled outward from its source and grew tenfold.
"Enter!" her father called with a put on lilt of boredom in his voice.
A dour little elf slowly moved into the room and cleared his throat.
"Yes, Archibald?" Parkinson asked without looking up.
"They're here, master."
Pansy watched the exchange with sharp interest. Then like a caged animal, she began to pace along the far wall lined with books, eyeing both the door and her father wildly. It had come. They had come whoever 'they' were. She couldn't decide if this was a good or bad thing. Whoever it was… whatever it was, she was fairly certain they had what she'd been looking for.
"Show them in," Parkinson doled out, trying unsuccessfully to hide the smile lighting his features.
"They?" Pansy barked, as she backed into the darkened corner in a misguided need for concealment.
Finally, he raised his eyes to meet hers. "My grandchildren."
--
dreamaway78: I think you've come to see Pansy very much the same way as I have. I used to think she was a right bitch. But now I'm of the firm mind it was a cover for insecurity. To be honest, I wasn't a fan of Percy before, but I thoroughly and totally adore him now. lol.
Rolax15: Um... thank you, I think. lol. just teasing. I'm quite fond of the first one, but I'm blushing you have such confidence in me.
autumnlover: What do you think? ;D Thank you so much. I just love writing. It's like playing in a sand box with the hose.
Grande.Vanilla.Skim.Latte: YAY! That's exactly what I was going for. You have no idea how hard it's been to make her nasty again. My muse version of her is fighting me tooth and nail.
QueenoftheClumsyDorks: She thought it was a joke Draco was trying to play on her. No need to be vicious if it's a prank. Just wait though now that she knows it's real. And I'll give you this much. Draco is up to something.
peealasbut: Thanks so much :)
cinroc: Thanks :) I'm trying to make them little individuals. And the lovin' may not come... right away ;)
Sullen Shadowhawk: Thank you :) I'll try not to make you wait as long between chapters. But I'm a bit obsessed sometimes with getting the story just right.
alias: Thanks for the understanding. Life gets in the way a lot... lol. And I'm so picky with what I post sometimes.
ClumsyTonks: I hope this chapter answered your question. Thank you kindly. I love the kids. I want to make each one an individual. Not just a mob of three that travel in a pack :)
qt4good: Draco has an ulterior motive. He is not as selfless as one might think... but is he ever :D
I am Green: It might take a bit to untangle this mess. Bear with me :)
Avanell: You know how much I love my memory stories. lol. They're just too much fun. The girl is fantastic. Just turned 8 months on th 21st. I'll send some pics. You sound crazy busy. Hope your making some time for yourself.
SOP: lol. I had fun with that. Made my hubby sputter and he's not even an HP fan. lol.