So I am a terrible person. Life has been a bit of a run away train for the past couple of months, and I am so sorry for the delay in uploading this chapter. Hope it was worth the wait.

Thank you for the lovely comments; Kokotheevilone, sesshoumaru4me, joster13 (especially!), Sabrina Weasley, maya & Sandra. They really gave me a boost this summer. Once life has calmed down a bit, updates will be more regular. I love writing this so much, so take it as a promise.

"Is that Harry Freaking Potter?"

"Yep," said Charlie through gritted teeth.

"Coming this way?"

"Uhuh."

"You seem slightly…" Tense seemed to be an inappropriate word. Especially considering the last emotionally traumatizing, life-threatening, arguably quite stressful forty-five minutes.

"Yep," replied Charlie. filling in the blanks Pansy had left dangling awkwardly.

"So when you said Potter wasn't your favorite person, you really meant that?"

"Yep."

"Wow."

Charlie frowned at her, temporarily ignoring the tall approaching (unmistakably heroic) figure. "That wasn't a sarcastic or surprised 'wow.' Why do you actually sound impressed?"

"It's not latent Slytherin hate I promise you- though I'm not exactly looking forward to coming face to face with Detective Inspector Potter- or whatever they call him now. You know, awkward school rivalry. I used to date his second favorite nemesis, spread rumors about Hermione collecting cat hair, generally scoff at Ron (sorry), and may be once vocalized an opinion to hand him over to the Dark Lord. So… no, I don't have a problem with him per se. My wow of appreciation is for your new-founded dark, twisty, complex depths, Weasley."

Charlie let these words settle over him. Even after a few mental repetitions they did not completely make sense to him.

"…You are the most unusual woman I've ever met. And when I say unusual I mean deeply, deeply disturbed."

She smiled. Despite their serious expressions, there was a playfulness in the air. The bravado that Charlie was putting on, with his aggressive stance and deepening brow, was more comedic than serious. She had no doubt his dislike for Potter was real, but what was happening now was a distraction. It was if they were taking part in some kind of choreographed comedy routine to distract from what had happened and what they had found out about each other. Pansy thought it was strangely lovely. A bizarre, reassuring yet horrifying dance. It wasn't like worrying whether someone would spill your secrets, or swap them like sweets. Charlie would never do that. This was an assuring hand-squeeze between them. No one will know. Your secret is my secret. So let's never talk about it again, okay?

"Well, you hate the Boy Wonder and have a dragon fetish."

"Point taken."

So, The Boy Who Didn't Know How To Take a Break From This World Saving Malarkey strode up towards them with an aggravatingly professional set to his jaw. His practical, dark navy Auror gear and black hair (still as untamable as it ever was) were almost invisible in the darkness. All they could see was the clear, pale cut of his face, and those two startling green eyes. The old, infamous scar nestled on his hairline. If it wasn't for these features, Pansy was not sure she would have recognized the man before them.

Harry had lost that slightly haunted look that had troubled his schoolboy features. Saving the world in secret and studying for Care of Magical Creatures obviously took it out of him at school. He seemed nonchalant as he quietly discussed feedback and plans with the rest of the Aurors who followed him like rapt dogs. Some of them were older than him, but were hanging to his every word while offering quiet suggestions. It was just another day at the office for him. Pansy almost wanted to scream. Whose life could be like this all the time?

"Charlie!" Harry extricated himself from the gaggle of Aurors. Pansy swiftly stepped slightly behind Charlie, her tall, dark and troubled frame hoping the shadows would hide her.

"Harry. Took you long enough," Charlie scowled… then smiled twistedly.

Harry grinned awkwardly thinking it was a joke, and held out his hand for Charlie to shake. Too polite for his own good, he took it and attempted a smile so painful it looked like his facial features were rebelling against each other. Hah, thought Pansy, so criminally well-mannered. He must be kicking himself.

"Yeah, sorry about the delay- but well done for holding them off. We were caught on the south border by the Ridgeback pens, about thirty Dementors flanked in from there."

"Are the Ridgebacks okay? Were Wynne and the others there?"

"Yeah, they're fine. Dragons hardly realized they were under attack at all. Wynne got a message to us pretty quick- a trespass without the defenses going off made her freak out a bit. Or so my rather rattled deputy who had to deal with her face yelling at him from the Floo network informed me. Luckily –and somewhat surprisingly- most of the Dementors on that side got stuck in those weird orange, knitted traps you have lying around everywhere."

Luna's traps actually work? Who would have guessed?

"Do you mind if my apprentice-" Pansy wasn't sure but it looked like a muscle in Harry's jaw twinged. "Herbert Hippstrotter asked you a few questions about tonight and the security in this place? I better go check on Wynne and the others before heading back. … God, this is going to be a hell of a thing to report." Harry the Hero gave a melancholic sigh as if the only thing the wizarding world was truly in danger of was too much paper work. Pansy bit back snipes relating to the terrors of paper cuts, and how truly awful it was to take responsibility for your actions as opposed to rampaging in willy-nilly

… A little voice in the back of her head reminded that this was rather Draco-esque thinking (Merlin forbid), and that perhaps she should concentrate more on pretending to be invisible. Not that Harry seemed to have acknowledged her presence. Yet. But the inevitable shit storm was coming, she could feel it. Either way, Harry was bizarrely chatty as he subconsciously tried to fill the silence that Charlie was making.

"…Rounding up the remaining Dementors is not exactly my favourite job in the world, and I have no idea how they managed to find themselves in the middle of a Dragon Sanctuary in Romania. Hah, mysteries are so much easier to solve when Hermione is there peering over your shoulder! Right, I'll leave you in the capable hands of Herbert. He's very enthusiastic- just to warn you. See you for Christmas at Mrs Weasley's, Charlie."

And with that the Boy Who Lived left.

More importantly, he left without giving Pansy a second glance.

Her elation was quickly ebbed by the intended, or unintended snub.

"Doesn't he know who I am?" exclaimed Pansy, just as Charlie gave a PG-13 curse toward the pesky Potter boy.

"Who are you?" piped up Herbert the obviously clumsy. He was short, weedy, and there was a definite greenness to him. Even without Harry's warning, Pansy could tell this was a boy who was pathologically enthusiastic. Her eyes narrowed.

"Pansy Patricia Parkinson."

Herbert dutifully wrote this down… and froze.

"Parkinson. As in the law firm? As in related to Pellinore Parkinson, currently incarcerated for illegal activities during the second wizarding war? And the eldest Parkinson sibling; dead and presumed an early follower of He Who Must Never Be Named- ahem, I mean Voldemort- Tom, Thomas Riddle. The Pansy Parkinson who wanted to give up Harry Potter in the war?"

"The Pansy Parkinson who is cleared and innocent of any wrong doings?" said Charlie, a pleasant menace in his voice.

The perverse jolt of pride (amongst the conflicted feelings of outrage at the list of her family's sins) of being addressed as "The" was quadrupled at Charlie's words. Pansy was quite capable of standing up for herself, but there was a lovely comfort to having some one do this. It almost felt like a little 'I'm sorry' from him. But that was nonsense. Slytherins fought their own battles, Gryffindors fought everyone else's.

Hippstrotter continued scribbling in his notebook, oblivious to Charlie's friendly threat. "Quite a coinkydink that you are here now, Ms Parkinson, right in the middle of a mysterious Dementor attack. Looking to smuggle out some dragons perhaps? Assembling a dark and vengeful army?"

"Writing my dissertation on dragons and related practices, maybe?" She replied wide-eyed, and using his same mocking tone.

"I'm just doing my job, Miss. I need to ask the questions."

"And I answered them," she responded coldly.

Charlie coughed politely, juxtaposing himself between them. "Harry said you had security questions. I'm in a better position to answer them than Pansy, who being a student has low level clearance and is supervised almost constantly after that unfortunate episode with the old apprentice Ryan."

"… No ones ever mentioned a Ryan before," whispered Pansy in an undertone. "In fact, you lot constantly reassure me that students haven't been harmed more than a broken arm and a couple of burns."

"Sometime we… massage the truth. Also, Ryan is fine. There's a reason people are born with two kidneys."

She let these words assimilate.

"I hate you sometimes."

"I know," Charlie replied with a small grin.

"Ahem," interrupted Hippstotter, looking perceptibly agitated. His quill was aquiver with rage and unanswered questions. "Fine, Mr Weasley. Do you have any clue how the Dementors could have got past your defenses? From what I hear this place is meant to be Gringotts-level secure."

Charlie, for reasons Pansy could not fathom, rolled his eyes. "Most of our defenses are against muggle and wizard trespasses. Magical beasts are usually too smart to bother dragons."

The young whippersnapper who had fallen over in his overenthusiastic attempt to defeat the Dementors, redoubled his enthused scribbling.

"And what happens if this trespass occurs?"

"Depends where and who it is. Muggles just get a disillusionment spell. If any wizards without a Black Tooth necklace get through- especially if they attempt to approach the Longhorn pens or anywhere marked with warnings- then an ancient skeleton of a colossal dragon rises from the earth and proceeds to devour them."

"Badass," whispered Pansy.

"So you'd say this place is secure?"

"Very."

"Let me have a word with my colleague. I may need to question again you both later." And by both, he meant Pansy. The look he gave her seemed an attempt to be professionally threatening, and looked vaguely like Potter's self-righteous glare. Upon leaving, he unsubtly indicated to his fellow Aurors that Pansy needed watching. Great.

Usually Pansy would feel wrathful about such treatment. But right now, she only felt a mild agitation. Admittedly, the Aurors probably had a right to question why on earth she was here (and it's not like the idea of having a pet dragon had not crossed her mind a couple hundred times). None of the suspicion felt like it mattered right then. As long as her friends knew her innocent, she supposed it was okay.

"…Care to share the joke?" asked Charlie, managing to keep his bewilderment at her inappropriate laughter mostly hidden.

"I just had a rather mature, grown up moment, if you must know. Hilarious, right?"

"Ah, so you have truly gone mad. Nice to know."

"Shame about your Patronus," Pansy said in a solemn tone as the Aurors escorted them back to the main base.

"Hmm? What? I thought my patronus was pretty cool."

"… Well, yeah. If you like living in dirty holes, having monochrome hair and representing the house of the pleasant but dull."

"What? My patronus was the wolf. You know, strong, protective… wolf-y."

"I think you'll find that's me: elegant, nocturnal, pack-orientated. You must be the badger. You're both so… bowlegged. And badgers are related to weasels."

"…You do zoology and think that weasels and badgers are closely related?"

"Shut up. They're both fluffy woodland creatures. Like you."

"You're the secretly cuddly one."

Pansy gasped. "I hugged you in a touching moment of joy and solidarity. I was getting over my issues regarding imminent death- and you use this against me? You cried! You literally had tears frozen on your face like some soppy heroine from Witch Weekly!"

"My eyes were watering! It was windy."

"Yeah- they were watering like a badger!"

"That doesn't make any sense!"

"I know," replied Pansy smugly. "I don't need to make sense. I'm a big, goddamned hero. I got cool scars, a dark past and anger management problems. Potter and I will probably be best buds now. We'll hit the town and score chicks with our super cool and definitely non-badgery Patroni."

Charlie looked at her agog. She was wonderfully, fantastically mad. A few moments ago he had been considering death by Dementor as quick and easy way out… and now she was provoking him with his distaste for the boy wonder and badger spirit animal. And it was working.

"How about we test this theory out now, eh Miss Parkinson? Or should I say… Miss Future Hufflepuff Emblem?"

They reached for their wands just as two Aurors rugby tackled Pansy to the ground.

The Aurors were quite surprised when Charlie physically threw them off the girl they were 95% sure was completely evil, and 67% sure was attacking him.

"If you do that again," muttered Pansy through gritted teeth as she shrugged snow off her bruised, aching shoulders. "I'll make your insides you outsides, and your outsides… oh, I'm too tired to this. Insert your own blood-curdling threat here."

"Yes," said Charlie, his voice toneless. "You may want to keep in mind that her family is entirely made up of lawyers. Just remember that before you decide to do your job with that level of enthusiasm again. Also, it's been a long day and I will break your jaw."

Back at the Fort, the uneasiness that Pansy had tried to evade through tiredness, annoyance and strange, circulating thoughts of Charlie, was rife through everyone else. Aurors had taken over Wynne's office- much to her chagrin- and they all were closeted up in the library. Any other group would be shaky and adrenaline-fuelled, quaking like rabbits in a den. But these were wranglers. Half of them sat stoic, suppressing the urge to run out and check the fences whenever a rogue roar echoed through the hills. The others paced, fuming with rage and the need to help. This was their land. Their responsibility. Every time an Auror returned one of them from the interviews, they pounced on the new comer with questions and pleas to check the pens. The dragons, too, knew something was wrong, and their calls agitated the mountains more than usual.

The solidity of their feeling made the whole evening more of a shocking reality for Pansy. They had a joke back in the Slytherin common room- Hogwarts; it's just one more bit of dangerous, weird shit after another. Not the most eloquent of phrases, but it hit the nail on the head. Just when you're fretting over Transfiguration homework, oh look- there's a troll in the dungeon! Love life getting you down and pesky NEWTs to concentrate on? Fear not, perspective is on it's way with the rise of a insane, murderous dictator! Oh look, your teachers are werewolves/torturers/double-agents/have a weird snake face on the back of their head, but don't worry if that doesn't kill you then the terrifying spider colony in the Forbidden Forest may snack on you during a detention.

And that was just Hog- "the safest place to be" –warts. And here they were again, in the supposed Golden Age of Wizardry. A time when equality bills were being pushed through, and International Wizardry was pulling together to create a safer world for all… and yet, there was still danger. This was the hangover from the war that seemed to never end. Pansy had thought living with bitterness and memory was bad enough, but there were things out there that still wanted to kill you. And they made as little sense to her now as it did when she was thirteen and those dark, soulless beasts were sent to guard them at school.

"Perhaps the Muggles have it right," she said to Charlie, as they hid in the corner by one of the bookcases. Instinctively they had entered the room quietly, avoiding the discussions going on around the table. Their little pocket of peace was a sacred thing. The moment they had to explain the evening it would be broken. Things would have to be fixed. Seriousness would have to descend. For now the dissociated state they had was a brief respite. "The no magic thing. A little less sparkle, a little more safety. I could cook with a non-fatal object and work a snazzy, but safe office job. I could live in utter ignorance of what goes bump in the night. It might be nice.

Charlie, bless him, cocked his head on one side and humoured her with a look of deep contemplation.

"Nah, couldn't do it."

"Racist."

He rolled his eyes in a way that he must have adopted from her. "Haha. You're forgetting the important stuff."

"Really? Perhaps I'm just less materialistic than you. Or whatever the equivalent of materialism with magic is. Power hungry?"

"Well, there's Quidditch. Dragons –most importantly. Making things levitate is pretty cool."

Pansy mouthed the word "Child" at him.

"And I'm not convinced you could do without magic. I think you find the constant ability to curse others comforting."

"I do like Fire balls, you're right."

"And what about Hogwarts? I met some of the best people I have ever come across there. It was the place I raced Icarus Couch for a snitch that ended up with us skidding twenty-yards on our faces and ending up in the hospital ward for two weeks. Without Hogwarts, I wouldn't have been able to be here today. My Magical Creatures teacher used to sign Dragon books out of the Forbidden section for me- which is how I learned the Swedish Short Snout has circular lungs –just like a bird- and they're covered in what is basically petroleum. Also, in the sixteenth century people would send their enemies dragon eggs in the guise of luxury food items, so when cooked a baby dragon would burst out and attack them..." A little nostalgic mist seemed to descend over Charlie. A bittersweet realisation that she had momentarily distracted him from tonight warmed her. "Things happen at Hogwarts there that don't happen anywhere else. Every child who goes there doesn't just come out with a magical education, they come out with a different, personal relationship with the place. No one who goes there will learn every one of Hogwarts' secrets, but we all come out with a couple. Muggles would kill for that… In fact, Muggles have killed for that."

Pansy was very still. She didn't want to break this fragile thing they had. She didn't want to break his memories of Hogwarts, so she said simply. "Not everyone who goes there had that kind of experience."

A little fracture seemed to travel across Charlie's face. It didn't break. It just looked like a brief moment of understanding.

"Pansy?' They had been spotted.

Mona rushed over and –curiously- embraced Pansy before Charlie. "Thank Merlin, you're alright. I had hoped that out of everyone you would be selfish and stay safe out of the way. Idiot. Seems the hero-gene everyone has here is infectious."

She then punched Pansy on the arm, which Pansy did her best to avoid showing how much it actually hurt.

"And you," Mona turned her glee to instant anger as she swiveled to Charlie. She hit him much, much harder, "are a plonker to go anywhere without your wand. No one's mentioned this to Wynne because you would be out on your ass, but I swear to Merlin if you do something like that again I will feed you to the Ridgebacks myself."

"Chill," Pansy interrupted, feeling Charlie had had a rough enough night already. "I've already threatened him thoroughly enough for one lifetime. Perhaps two. How is everyone else?"

Luna transpired out of nowhere and blinked sleepily as Pansy enveloped her in a bruising hug.

"Luna! You mad, little, fantastic, befuddled genius! They told us about your traps. Apparently we would have been overrun without them."

"Well, I don't know about that," she replied sleepily. "It's a shame those Dementors completely ruined them though. I bet one more day and we would have caught something of actual interest. Other than the mountain goats. What happened to you two?"

"Oh, we just fought off a legion of Dementors. No biggie. Mr Big-shot over there has a Patronus of a badger. (Dead embarrassing). I saved the day, yada yada. Now I think I deserve a 36 hour nap, a large drink and perhaps a medal. Not necessarily in that order."

Mona raised her eyebrows and snorted in a way that Pansy chose to interpret as her being highly amused.

"No casualties but our egos. After the encounter most of us are feeling a little… delicate. Dementors aren't really an enemy we'd ever thought of preparing for. Poachers, madmen and dragons in heat, yes, but soulless demons with no pulse, not so much. We've done a quick recon and all the penned guys are about. Tomorrow we'll head out into the field and see if we can count up everyone. Not that I can really imagine a Dementor could make off with a fully grown dragon… but there's a lot I can't explain today. Fancy heading out with us tomorrow?"

"Definitely," answered Pansy and Charlie in unison.

At that point Wynne noticed their existence and beckoned them over. She was crouched over one of the tables with a map of the land spread before her. From the animated dragons and floating model brooms levitating above the page it seemed that she had been planning the routes everyone would take tomorrow. The lines of concentration her faces crisscrossed with scars and wrinkles. There was something striking about the old bird, though Pansy's Mother would have shuddered to look upon someone so careworn and severe.

"So, Damsel and Goldilocks, what are your theories about tonight's misadventures? I've heard everything from rogue Dementors wanting to enter the black market to them merely wanting to possess a new, flamey pet. Your thoughts can't be quite as inane as some of the malarkey I've heard tonight, so impress me."

Pansy sighed and collapsed into the closest comfy chair.

"I don't really do the Scooby thing. From my experience- weird shit happens. Best not to think too much about it, because something weirder, shittier and more confusing is probably around the corner."

"Helpful," Wynne replied coldly.

"It's been a long day," Charlie said in an undertone. "Tomorrow I'm sure we'll be more up to thinking this thing through. What did Potter say?"

"Let me guess- nothing?" chimed in Pansy. "That's his style. My childhood would have made a lot more sense if he hadn't been quite so, yunno, secretive."

"From the way I remember it, whenever that boy did tell the truth no one believed him." Wynne gave Pansy a cold-eyed stare. "Doesn't surprise me that he is averse to giving everyone all the details. Especially considering how helpful everyone was back in the day with the 'Scooby thing,' whatever that means. But you're right, the Aurors are very tight-lipped about their thoughts on the matter. So I need your thoughts. If we're going to stop this from happening again, we need to know why and where from."

"And who," said Charlie, rubbing his eyes. "I can't imagine tonight was completely the machinations of Dementors. Some one will be directing them, offering them power."

A silence spread through the room. The man who died twice come to live again? They all knew two men who had avoided death by each other's hand. There was always that lingering question whether either of them could truly die.

"How many?" asked Pansy all of a sudden, sitting up in her chair.

"Sixty, maybe?" Toothpick spoke from the corner. "I heard a couple of the Aurors talking- not exactly the best spies in the world. They think in that ball-park."

"Dementors are, perversely, one of the most democratic creatures that exist. There is nothing like a rebel band, at least not documented. I think this was a scout party."

"Sixty is a scout part?" Caesar asked. "The ministry have regulated the majority of Dementors, I can't imagine there are many pockets of them left."

"Says a zoologist purely interest in dragons," replied Pansy, frowning in concentration. "Even when Azkaban housed them, that was never the full population. A few groups survived in the muggle world- it was a sore, and ignored, point in Ministry-Dementor relations. They were meant to get free-rein of the prizoners and the occasional soul in exchange for leaving everyone else alone. But allowing some groups to roam free meant they could breed and survive if relations ever went sour, as they have. The Ministry let this happen as they didn't want to lose the tenuous hold they already had… and also, who cares if a couple of muggles get depressed and lose a soul?"

"Hey, muggle-born present." Toothpick scowled.

"I know, 'pick. It's shitty, and I don't agree with it, but that was the thinking back then. Edgar, my father, was on the case when they were doing the annual legal review of Azkaban. 'Muggles- who cares?' was quite literally what some of the Wizengammot concluded. Dementors are terrifying. They were scared. Best they had this pretend power over them in exchange for a few lives they were not responsible for."

"It's disgusting," growled Charlie. "We should be responsible for them."

Pansy decided to not enter into the whole ethical debate. How on earth could they properly regulate Dementors anyway? It was like regulating mercury, or rounding up quicksand.

"The point is, I think they'll be back. And they'll be more. Much more of them."

"You going to pack a suitcase, Damsel?" Marcus the golden-god leaned against Wynne's desk, his chin tilted in challenge.

"Yep," she replied with fire in her eyes. "One for you. Can't have anyone fragile getting in my way while I do something useful, can I?"