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Chapter 19 – Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures
Suddenly, a shadow cut a swath across her, and she was forced to look up at the looming figure above her. As was often the case, the expression in those steel grey eyes was completely unreadable, but for the first time Pansy didn't care. She didn't want to know what lurked behind that cold façade. She'd had enough of his cruelty and derision. She let her head dip back down and buried her face in her hands, allowing the grief to reclaim her.
Without warning, she felt gentle, delicate hands pull her easily into a comforting embrace. She knew those arms well, and they hadn't been this kind to her since their school years. Unquestioning of the sympathy being offered, Pansy burrowed her face into her oldest friend's chest and sobbed out her sorrow.
As her crying spell waned, she felt him heave a sigh, "So, he's gone?"
She pulled away but focused on the buttons of his shirt, refusing to meet his searching gaze. Her bottom lip quivered dangerously but she gave a solid nod.
"And I suppose you're in love with him?"
At having the truth stated so plainly, Pansy shriveled in on herself and let her head fall forward onto Draco's chest again as a new batch of tears pooled in her eyes.
"And there's no doubt the silly, jealous git is in love with you." He drawled.
Draco sighed dramatically once again and tightened his hold on her, placing his cheek against the crown of her head. "Oh Pansy darling, haven't you learned yet?"
She quieted and waited tensely for the malicious barb that she was sure was about to come.
"Men are complete wankers," he concluded, a sardonic twist to his tone.
Pansy snapped her head up quickly to look at him square in the eye and giggled despite herself.
Cupping her cheek, Draco brushed the wetness from her face with his thumb. "Feeling better now? Had your little cry?"
"Maybe… slightly. Actually no, not really to be honest." She sniffled, trying her utmost to be strong.
Shaking his head wearily, he reached into his pocket and hesitantly pulled out a very familiar lacy scrap of nothing. "I believe these belong to you," he offered quietly as he handed her the slip of material.
A mad blush stole into her cheeks, and she took the proffered undergarment, bunching it into her small hand so that it would be completely concealed.
The playful smirk gracing his lips fell away as a more serious air settled over his features. "We need to discuss what we're going to do."
Staring unwaveringly down at her clenched fist, Pansy mumbled. "How do you mean?"
"Pansy, you know what I mean." He scolded gently. "There's no avoiding the marriage now, but the least we can do is be honest with each other. This doesn't have to be all bad."
She looked up and locked her eyes with his in a challenging stare.
"Now I need you to hear me out, Panse." He managed, the trepidation clear in his troubled features.
Eyeing him warily, she muttered. "Go on..."
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The next morning at ten sharp, Pansy found herself standing frozen with her right hand on a door handle. She stared up lost in the name inscribed on the tempered glass.
MR. PERCY WEASLEY, DEPUTY MINISTER
- BUSINESS AFFAIRS & APPLICATIONS -
That name… the flow of it. How its meaning had changed for her over the course of the last two and a half months. She'd caught herself several times that morning sounding out different variations of it in her mind.
Mrs. Parkinson-Weasley… Mrs. Weasley-Parkinson… Mrs. Percy Weasley…
Yes, it was foolish. And true, it was never going to happen now but that had never stopped her from fantasizing about the impossible before. She could almost hear her teenage self deriding her current self viciously. How could she possibly love a Weasley? How could she even imagine marrying one? 'Quite easily' was her only response.
She knew her situation… her unhappiness was of her own making, but she really couldn't be certain if she had the will or fortitude to be a poor man's wife no matter how much she loved him.
'Well, it doesn't matter now, does it?' she berated inwardly. 'You'll never have to concern yourself with that notion again.'
Pansy looked down and swallowed hard. She was so muddled between what she wanted and what she knew her responsibilities to be that she felt like she was drowning. Although she was convinced she had a plan to save what she and Percy had, she couldn't seem to get past the disappointment of losing her chance to have that name.
Mrs. Percy Weasley.
She drew in a ragged breath and shook out her left hand, trying to release the ache in her chest. As she released the air in a long steady stream, she brought her chin up and jutted it out proudly in a show of pomposity that she wasn't feeling in the slightest. Pansy turned the knob and made her way into the office. Her eyes instantly fell on the closed door to the inner office, and she felt her heart rate quicken.
Turning her sights to the woman working feverishly behind the reception desk, Pansy relocated her purpose and plastered a fake smile on her face.
"Good morning, Phyllis. I know Mr. Weasley is quite busy, but I was wondering – "
"He's not in," the witch muttered, without looking up from her work.
"Pardon?"
Finally tearing her eyes away, Phyllis leveled the young woman standing across form her with a steely gaze. "He's not here, Ms. Parkinson. Mr. Weasley is on sabbatical, attending to…" there the old hag stopped and gave Pansy an icy up and down before continuing, "personal matters."
Pansy became agitated and flustered. "For how long?"
"You know, he didn't say," she offered lightly as she returned to her work.
Pansy scrubbed anxiously at her face and began to pace. "Do you know where I can find him? Is he at his flat?"
"I think he mentioned something about stopping there. Can't say that I recall though."
"How did he seem?"
"Excuse me?" Phyllis looked back up, quickly losing what little humour she had with the situation.
"How was he? Was he… did he seem upset?"
"Ms. Parkinson, we are discussing the same Mr. Weasley I hope."
Pansy's jaw clenched tightly and her small hands balled up into fists of aggravation. "Yes," she forced out through gritted teeth.
"He seemed just as pinched and stressed as usual, Miss." Phyllis quipped, glancing back down to her work.
"And how did he look?"
"I really don't have time for this, young woman. As you can see, I have a great deal to catch up on. My boss 'oh so kindly' worked through the night before he flitted off to Merlin knows where with Merlin knows which one of those groupies that keeps stalking him, creating a mountain of paper work for me to sort through. Now if you'll excuse me."
Pansy's back went up instantly at the mention of other attentions being paid to her man. "What do you mean 'which one'? How many were there?"
"I don't know," the decrepit bitty huffed. "He's been getting a lot of owls over the last two days. Apparently, he's become quite popular lately. But I think your recent engagement might have something to do with that." Phyllis finished off, giving Pansy a pointed look.
"Right," Pansy mumbled, still a little gobsmacked at the notion that Percy was now a sought after man. That other witches wanted him. Some of them had probably offered to console him after he was dropped so unexpectedly.
"So, when did you say he left?" she managed, finally finding her voice.
"I didn't say, and he probably left about an hour ago."
"Right. Thank you," Pansy mumbled, before blindly fumbling her way out of the reception area.
Phyllis watched the young woman depart with a mixture of pity and disdain. There were very few times in her long life that she didn't envy the upper class, now was definitely one of those moments though.
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As Pansy apparated to Percy's flat, her confidence in the plan she and Draco had concocted began to wane. Of course it wasn't the ideal solution to their problem but it was worth a try. At least they could both still be relatively happy and appease their parents. She'd just have to make Percy understand and ensure those other tarts stayed the hell away from him. As Draco had said 'it didn't have to be the end'. They could make this work.
Pansy set her shoulders back, lifted her chin high, and with all the poise she could muster, rapped forcefully on his door. Wringing her hands mindlessly – the only outside indication of her nervousness – she waited. After a painfully long minute of silence, Pansy felt her courage begin to slip. She reached up and knocked again, but still there came no response.
"Percy, please! I need to speak with you," she pleaded, her voice a harsh whisper.
Feeling her agitation at his stubbornness begin to simmer, she looked side to side down both ends of the narrow hallway for any witnesses, subtly pulled out her wand, and then hissed. "Fine. Be that way. Alohamora!"
Much to Pansy's surprise, the lock clicked and the door eased open. As she cautiously edged her way inside, she half expected to be hit with some kind of ward or jinx.
"Percy?" she called out cautiously, but was met with an almost deafening silence.
She'd missed him; that much was clear. Pansy huffed out a frustrated sigh, and glanced around. At the mad disarray of his flat, she felt a screaming panic rush through her, tensing her entire frame. His normally pristine living room was a shambles. It looked as though it had been ransacked. Her mind flew to the worst possible scenario. That he'd been attacked – it had been known to happen to high-ranking members of the Ministry. The lack of a ward on his flat made a lot more sense in that light.
'One of those psychos who kept owling him perhaps,' she mulled over silently.
Pansy flew to the kitchen, but it was in no better shape. The floor was covered in shattered glass and china and two of the cupboards had lost their doors. This did nothing to calm the already sharp pang of anxiety stabbing at her chest. She bolted from the kitchen, through the living room, and down the hall, throwing a quick glance into the bathroom, the sight of which had her stumbling to a stop. The mirror was smashed and the sink and surrounding floor were covered in splatters of blood.
She began to pant in terror nearly sending herself into a hysterical fit. Restarting her search, she made a mad dash to the door of his bedroom but stopped abruptly as a question flashed across her mind. What would she find on the other side? This quickly led to another question. Was she prepared to see the unthinkable? The tears spilled over instantly and burned as they slid hotly down her cheeks. Pulling in a deep, steeling breath, Pansy placed her hand on the door and slowly pressed it open. All the air left her in a rush of relief as she scanned the vacant room. Nothing but clothes strewn everywhere inhabited the space. She tiredly wandered over to the bed and sat heavily on the hard mattress.
'If he's not here, then where the devil is he?' she mused fearfully.
At that moment, her eyes lit upon a scrap of material on the floor. Crouching, she reached for what appeared to be a swatch of dark green fabric. As her hand closed around it though, she gasped at the violent realization that this was in fact his ratty, old bathrobe. Well, at least it was the remains of it. The memory of her teasingly claiming it as her own danced past her mind's eye. She could have brought her own more expensive, more delicate dressing gown, but she'd grown rather attached to the shabby garment. It was big and warm, and scratched at her skin in the best kind of way. She glanced about to find shreds of the bathrobe littering the floor.
And that was when it struck her. His flat. The mess. He'd done this. And the bathrobe, which he'd obviously considered to be hers as much as she did, had been destroyed. The swelling emotion from the implications of its destruction threatened her again but she hammered it down. This could be rectified.
"Reparo!" she whispered, pointing her wand at the scraps on the floor, and the bathrobe pulled together in her hands.
She hugged the worn garment to her, inhaling the scent – his scent – woven intricately into the fabric, and wondered if their battered relationship could so easily be mended.
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Percy stared into the flames licking and rolling merrily in the grate, allowing his mind to slip from one memory to the next. That's all he would have of her from now on… just fleeting images accompanied by a vice like grip, squeezing at his chest. As much as he wanted to hate her, and on some levels he did, he couldn't help craving her… needing her. He had never understood the notion of the infamous love/hate relationship – he thought it was ridiculous. Either you loved someone, or you hated them.
Actually, there was a third option, which he'd always been quite fond of. Apathy: uncaring one way or the other. Oh, how he wished he could return to that disconnected state. That was not to be his lot though. It seemed he now had a brutal and definitive understanding of what it was to feel both of those overpowering, yet conflictive emotions for one person.
Pulling his eyes away from the fire, Percy focused on the flame in the glass clutched in his right hand instead. He lifted the tumbler in front of him and drew lazy circles in the air with the sparkling crystal, watching as the contents swirled thickly around like waves in the ocean. On impulse, he brought the glass to his lips and drained the fiery liquid in one deep gulp.
As he placed the glass back down onto the arm of his chair, Ginny's noisy bashing of pots in the kitchen jarred him from his thoughts. She was still barking mad from their recent and most revealing argument, but he couldn't find it within himself to care. He did feel slight guilt because she'd been good enough to put him up and be there for him. But her disapproval and disappointment were not welcome and he let her know as much.
Suddenly, a knock came at the front door, which he decided in his haze to ignore. It wasn't his house, and in following that line of thinking, it more than likely was not for him. He reasoned he did not have the will or the patience to get up and exchange false pleasantries with whoever was looking for his sister.
On the third set of persistent knocking, Ginny huffed her way through the living room, wiping her hands angrily on a dishcloth and shooting a vicious glare at him, before disappearing down the front hall. He heard the front door open and as a deafening silence descended upon the whole of the house, he felt a nervous coil of dread inexplicably wind itself tightly in his gut.
"Yes?" Ginny offered in a quiet, but threatening lilt. When no immediate response came, she finally snarled. "What do you want, Ms. Parkinson?"
"Have you…? Is Percy here?"
He heard her voice, and his breath caught in his throat. Percy's mind began to race. She was at the door. She was looking for him. He wanted desperately to catch even just a glimpse of her. It had been almost a full week without her – five days to be exact – and he was doing miserably. But in the same token, what would he say to her? Other than giving her that blasted invoice, there was no reason to be in her company. And to be perfectly honest, he wasn't ready just yet for it all to be over.
"Ms. Parkinson, in light of recent events, I really don't believe you have any right to ask after him." Ginny's brisk voice broke through his thoughts.
"Yes, I'm aware of how…" Pansy seemed to hesitate for a moment. "Listen, it's very important that I speak with him before tomorrow."
"Why? Do you have a prior engagement to attend to?" Ginny jabbed mercilessly.
There was a painful silence in which Percy could only imagine the battle of wills being waged at the door.
"If you see him, can you just let him know that…"
"That what?" Ginny bit out sharply, cutting her off without remorse.
"That I would really like to talk to him before the party."
"Oh right! His invoice. I'll make sure he gets that to you."
Percy squeezed his eyes closed and fiercely gripped the tumbler he was holding, his knuckles whitening from the strain. Ginny just could not keep her big mouth shut.
"I... That's not what…" Pansy stammered breathlessly.
"Good evening, Ms. Parkinson." Ginny spat coldly, and with that, the door was swiftly snapped shut.
Ginny huffed back into the den, a dark cloud of anger storming over her features. "I can't believe the nerve of that bitch." She muttered to herself.
"Did you have to, Gin?" Percy asked quietly, unable to restrain himself.
"Did I have to what?"
"I told you about… about the contract in confidence. Why did you have to throw it in her face?"
"Are you serious? You're actually defending her?"
"No, I'm not defending her. I'm just saying that I agreed to it. It was my choice. I could have said 'no'."
"Well, you should have."
"Well, I didn't, did I? And that's not her fault, now is it? I knew what I was getting into."
"Obviously you didn't, or you wouldn't have demolished your flat."
"Oh, sod off, Ginny!" he snapped as he stood and moved to refill his glass.
"No, I will not sod off'. You trashed your place. You busted up both your hands, which, lucky for you, I was able to mend. Now you're drinking my liquor cabinet dry, and you don't sodding drink!"
"No Ginny, I didn't understand what I was getting myself into," he finally barked at her, "are you happy now? I didn't think I was going to fall in love with her. I just thought I could… that I could improve my lot. Have a bit more. Be comfortable for once. Not worry. I know that it was wrong of me, but I can't help it. What would you do if a better life was offered to you?"
"I would have said 'no'." Ginny replied, staunchly holding her ground.
"So I guess I got what I deserved then, right?"
Softening, Ginny crossed to him and placed a sympathetic hand on his arm. "You didn't deserve this, Percy. She used you."
"She didn't fucking use me, Gin." He snapped, as he yanked his arm away and fled to the kitchen for some ice. "This is not like what happened with you and –"
"Don't you dare!" she shouted. "It's exactly the same. She got what she wanted out of you and then blew you off like you were nothing."
"You just don't get it, Ginny. That arsehole Zabini may have treated you like rubbish but at least he had the choice of whether or not he stayed with you."
"Fuck you!" Ginny bite back, smarting terribly from the truth pouring out of her brother's mouth.
Ignoring her outburst, Percy continued. "He was a complete wanker and he chose wrong. Pansy has no bloody choice in the matter. Her father chose her husband when she was four."
"Then why did she shack up with you in the first place? She knew damn well she couldn't commit to you. She didn't fucking care about you, that's why. She didn't fucking care what you were feeling. She's a spoiled fucking brat. The only thing that mattered to her was her, so don't you stand there and tell me what a bloody victim she is. If she really loved you as much as she claimed she did, then she would have stayed with you and told her father to sod off."
He stared at her wordlessly for several long seconds. Percy had no comeback to this. Ginny was right. If Pansy really did love him, she would have chosen him. Instead, she tossed him at the first sign of trouble. He sniffed loudly, and abandoned her in the kitchen for the sanctuary of the den.
Following behind, Ginny tried to repair the damage she'd done. "I'm sorry, Percy, but it's true. If she loved you – "
As she began to rehash this point, Percy sat heavily into the weathered, soft armchair by the fireplace, forced out of all of his breath, and stared vacantly into the amber liquid dancing in his glass. "You're right," he mumbled softly, cutting off her words.
"Pardon?" she stumbled, stunned by his quiet surrender.
"I said you're right. If she really did love me, she wouldn't have…"
Quite suddenly, he stood and looked everywhere but at her. In the next moment, he moved swiftly over to the liquor cabinet and grabbed the half empty bottle of Ogden's Finest. Ginny was powerless to move, mesmerized by the pain carving its way deep into her brother's face and frame. Once he had claimed his liquid comfort, he released the breath he was holding and deflated slightly, before wandering toward the hall leading to the bedrooms.
"Percy?" she called to him, finding her voice.
"I'm done for the night. I'll… Don't worry. I'll replace whatever I break or drink."
With that, he disappeared into the darkened hallway and a few short seconds later, she could just make out the soft clicks of his door shutting and locking. Ginny squirmed at the hollowness of her victory. What she would have given to be wrong. Unfortunately, she just knew how the upper class Slytherin snots worked. She still couldn't believe she'd allowed herself to be swayed into trusting that harpy. And Percy was suffering for it as a result.
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A/N: Hello all! Thanks so much for the wonderful reviews and support for this wacky pairing. There are only three... maybe four chapters left before the final curtain.
IHeartMCR: Don't hate Pansy. She has a really tough lot in life and she may just surprise you. And I don't mind being lambasted sometimes ;D
jrintha: LOL. Thank you. I can totally understand the WTF factor. I just hope people see this fic as the chance for a little vacation from the canon pairings. P and P are so much fun... lol.
Miss Anthrope: Oh, you know Draco so well. He and Pansy obviously have a deep friendship. They've known each other forever. I'm surprised you still haven't guessed. I'm tempted to give you hints... but i won't. lol.
Over the Moon: I understand the need for a little more 'happy times', but if I let that go on for too long... trust me, it will get boring. There's a story to get out of the way. They can be happy in the end... maybe ;)
autumnlover: Arranged marriages can be a blessing or a curse. Sometimes, your parents know you better than anyone and really do make the best choice for you. And other times... well everybody ends up hurting.
gingerale22: It's not too much to ask for a happy ending. I will tell you this... Neither Pansy or Draco have the power to get out of the arranged marriage. There's only one person who can remedy this situation.
kalira: I know their happiness was short lived, but i always get antsy when a story gets hung up at the happy moments. It kind of feels like it stalls to me. The tale needs to keep barreling on to get to the "happy ending".
ginger28: You understand why it had to be done. Certain things have to get resolved before true happiness can be claimed.
Angel Rayne: You have it the nail squarely on the head. Pansy and Percy come from such diverse upbringings that they are bound to run into misunderstandings. Percy doesn't truly get why Pansy has to obey her father's seemingly ridiculous wishes. Nor does Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys for that matter. In Pansy's social class, it's what is expected. Draco understands this... not that he likes it either.
Oh, and Pansy is going to assertively go after what she wants, but I don't think Percy is going to agree with her reasoning. It'll be just another example of how differently they were raised.
stoneofpurity: Holy crap!!! Knicker Twisting and Swellage of the Heart... LMAO. That sounds like the title of my next fic. LOL. They will get their crap together I promise... just not yet.