Revenge By Any Other Name (Where One Takes a Risk) - Harry/Pansy - 10/?
Series Title: Revenge by Any Other Name
Chapter Title: Where One Takes a Risk (10/?)
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Harry/Pansy
Prompt: #86 - Choices
Word Count: 4973
Rating: PG/PG-13
Summary: Pansy expected the risk of getting caught, but this is very different.
Pansy inhaled the soft scent of lavender, lowering herself further into the warm bath water until the bubbles tickled her nose. She listened intently to the silence of the house around her. Theodore and Daphne had gone out to dinner, Pansy turning down Daphne’s annoyingly eager invitation to join them. Pansy would have preferred to have suffered an Unforgivable than spend any unneeded minutes in the other woman’s company. Luckily for her, she had her meeting with Potter--or Occlumency lessons as she informed Daphne--tonight.
A frown curling onto her lips, Pansy closed her eyes.
Tonight, she’d find out if Harry still thought her completely insane for even thinking he could be the final horcrux; and she had the feeling that his hesitation on the matter probably hadn’t changed in the seven days since they had last met.
The theory made perfect sense, but at the same time, she could at least understand his hesitation. He had obviously been torn by, and perhaps even a bit afraid of, the possibility. He hadn’t wanted to speak on the matter--not that she would have forced him to do so--but it took a lot of effort on her part to leave him standing alone in his flat that night.
It took a single trip to his old home for her to realize that he’s not the same cool, detached caricature of the Boy Who Lived that she’d always figured of him. Going back home had opened old wounds for him, and it had shown. Painfully so.
“Stupid Potter,” she muttered under he breath, resting her head back against the cool rim of the tub.
They had come into this arrangement as strangers for the most part. Strangers who could have cared less about the other’s feelings, but now… Now she actually felt guilt about not staying to comfort him when he had obviously needed some sort of solace.
She could have at least returned the favor. He had comforted her, after all. She didn’t remember actually blacking out during their incantation, but she did remember that frightening moment right when consciousness returned and she wasn’t quite sure where she was. For a moment, she thought she was waking up from a nightmare, and she had reached out to grab Blaise. But it hadn’t been Blaise’s shirt in her hands, and it hadn’t been Blaise’s voice comforting her or his hands holding her.
And even though it wasn’t her husband telling her she was safe, that she was okay, she still felt the safest she had ever felt in a very long time.
Pansy growled again under her breath.
This was not happening. She most certainly was not starting to feel things for that annoying Boy Who Lived because that would be one of the worst possible ideas known to all of wizarding kind.
Pansy sighed deeply, running her hands through her hair.
Merlin, it was happening.
Pansy looked towards the doorway as a cool draft passed through the bathroom. Blaise stepped into the room with a small smile on his lips. She gave him a curious look as he closed the door and approached her, perching on the edge of the tub.
His fingers trailed softly across the layer of bubbles surrounding her as he spoke. “Evening, love.”
Pansy continued to stare at him, a faint smile on her features. “What are you doing here? I thought you had a meeting tonight.”
“I did,” he replied with a nod, his hand reaching over and smoothing down her wet hair. “Not a particularly long one tonight, it seemed.”
“Anything interesting on the table tonight?” she asked casually.
“Just ponderings on a traitor in our midst.”
Under the water, Pansy’s nails dug into the tender flesh of her own thighs. She kept her voice calm, almost detached, even as her heart began to pound in her ears. “A traitor?”
“In our own house, actually,” he added, his gaze focused on the wall just over her head..
Pansy’s nails dug deeper into her legs, and for a second, she wondered if she would leave bruises in the morning. “What do you mean?”
“I think Nott may be trying to sabotage me.”
Pansy felt her pulse begin to return to normal. “Nott? What makes you think Nott would even do such a thing?”
“He hasn’t exactly enjoyed the fact that I’ve been placed in charge of this horcrux search. Not to mention my ever convenient misplacement of the spell I needed.” He frowned. “It returned to my desk two days following, but I’m quite sure I didn’t just overlook it.”
Pansy sat up slightly in her water. “But do you honestly think Nott would be thick enough to pull such a stunt when we share a roof?”
Blaise smirked. “This is Theodore we’re speaking of, Pansy.”
Pansy nodded, her insides twisting. “Did you turn him in as a possible traitor?”
“No. I don’t have all the proof I need at the moment. Just gut feelings and speculation. If I’m sending someone away as a traitor, I’d like to make entirely sure I’ve fingered the right person. Traitors aren’t to be handled lightly, and it’s not exactly a punishment you can return from.”
Pansy said nothing in response, that nauseous feeling in the pit of her stomach almost overwhelming her.
“But if there’s one more setback, it’s unfortunately my hide--not Nott’s--that will have to face the consequences.” He frowned. “Which makes my need for proof a bit more pertinent.”
“As it should be,” she replied evenly.
Blaise leaned over and kissed her forehead, pushing wet strands away that clung to her cheeks. “You’re about the only person in this world I can trust, you know.”
Pansy offered a small smile.
“Enjoy the rest of your bath, love,” Blaise said, finally standing. “I have a few things I need to take care of.” He started towards the door before stopping, hand on the cool knob, as he turned back to her. “Occlumency lessons tonight?”
Pansy nodded. “Yes.” She swallowed hard, willing away the frown she could feel wanting to escape. “Perhaps my last.”
Blaise tilted his head. “Your last? Already?”
“I think I’ve accomplished enough.”
“I’ll see you when you return then,” he said with nod before leaving Pansy alone in the bath.
Pansy lifted a hand to her forehead, bubbles trickling down her wrist as she closed her eyes. She had gone into this exercise knowing that getting caught was a risk. She had known that she could plan and plot as precisely as she liked, but that risk still hovered over every single thing she did. But she never expected her misgivings to come back on Blaise so harshly.
Name a traitor in his midst or face violence himself.
She didn’t go into their marriage with ideas of undying love and devotion. She had only been doing what was expected of her-- marry into dignity, and if not the Malfoys, the Zabinis would do just as well. She may not love Blaise like she had loved Draco, but that didn’t mean she wanted such a violent demise to befall him.
Especially because of her.
You’re about the only person in this world I can trust.
Pansy closed her eyes tightly together. “Way to twist the bloody knife, Zabini.”
Inhaling deeply, Pansy slid completely under the cooling bath water.
--------
“What are you doing here?” Harry asked, stepping aside to allow Hermione to enter his flat.
“You haven’t been to a single meeting this week,” she replied, frowning and her hands fidgeting with a charm bracelet around her right wrist. She turned to him as he closed and locked the door. “We were worried.”
“I’m fine, Hermione,” he replied, offering up a weak smile before going over to the couch and taking a seat.
“Yes, well, you say that, but the fact still remains that you’ve been avoiding all of us.” She stood at the arm of the couch, not making a move to sit.
Harry sighed. “I’m not avoiding.”
Hermione studied him for a moment. “Does this have something to do with the horcruxes?”
Harry didn’t reply, hoping that if he just ignored the question he had been trying to avoid all week, it would simply cease to exist. He rubbed his forehead, frowning.
Hermione sat down beside him. “It does, doesn’t it?” she said, reading him like she had a tendency to do. “Did you learn what the last horcrux is? Where we can find it?”
“Not entirely,” he muttered in response.
Hermione raised a curious eyebrow. “Not entirely?”
“Pansy seems to think I’m the last horcrux.”
She simply stared at him.
Harry laughed quietly. “That was my initial reaction too.”
“But…but how is that even possible?”
“The night Voldemort tried to do me in with the Killing Curse. There’s a possibility that a bit of a transfer occurred.”
Hermione blinked. “Please don’t tell me you believe this nonsense.”
“I…I don’t know.” He pushed himself off the couch, pacing the floor. “It’s just that… everything adds up. It makes sense, but… But at the same time, I wish it didn’t.”
“Harry, I realize you trust Pansy, but perhaps you’ve been blindsided here.” She shook her head in disbelief. “She could just as easily be trying to lead you astray with this theory of hers. If she makes you think that’s the answer, you’re out of the picture. The Death Eaters can continue their real search while you have nothing.”
“She wouldn’t do that,” he stated firmly.
Hermione stood, laughing dryly. “She wouldn’t do that? Harry, this is Pansy Parkinson. Former Slytherin. Wife of a Death Eater. If there was anything she was engineered to do, it was this. Lead us off track so that we lose the war, lose everything you’ve fought for.”
Harry shook his head. “She wouldn’t, alright?”
“And how can you be so sure? You have nothing but her word that she’s on our side here.”
“And I trust her word.”
Hermione frowned. “Then at least repeat the spell,” she countered. “Repeat it in a different location. If it still points to Godric’s Hollow, then you know she’s wrong.”
Harry frowned, thinking of the unconscious Pansy laid out on his couch. She had claimed to be fine afterwards, but it had still scared him regardless. He didn’t want to put her through that again, but he couldn’t think of any other way to appease Hermione’s worries.
“Well?” she asked expectantly.
Before he could form a response, someone knocked on his flat door. Harry glanced at his watch as he turned towards the door, and he knew exactly who would be greeting him on the other side before he even opened it.
“Pansy,” he greeted, leaning against the door.
“Potter,” she replied cordially, adjusting the strap of her duffel bag on her shoulder. Her lips curled into a slight frown. “So… are you okay after last week?”
Harry raised an amused eyebrow. “Was that actual concern for me?”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “So then you’re obviously fine.” She pushed by him and stepped into the flat.
Hermione stood, arms folded across her chest, as Harry closed the door. Pansy smirked at the other woman before throwing a glance over her shoulder at Harry. “I didn’t realize tonight would be a ménage a trois.”
“I’m not staying,” Hermione replied.
“Pity,” Pansy smiled wryly.
“I was simply stopping by to tell Harry I think he’s made a horrible mistake putting blind trust in you,” Hermione countered casually. “Especially considering this nonsense about him being the last horcrux.”
“Hermione,” Harry sighed.
Pansy held up her hand to stop him. “Is that so, Granger?”
Hermione nodded.
“Then perhaps you’d like to join me tonight when I recast the spell,” she replied frankly.
Harry stared at her. “What?”
She turned to him. “Though I stand behind my theory one hundred percent, even I realize that there is a miniscule chance I could be wrong.” She shrugged and adjusted the strap of her bag again. “By recasting the spell in a different location, we can easily see whether or not I’m right.”
Harry took Pansy by the elbow, pulling her off towards the doorway that led into the kitchen. She gave him a confused look as he released his grip on her arm. “May I ask why you’ve decided to manhandle me? Because I have cursed men for far less.”
“Do you remember what happened last week?” he asked in a hushed tone. “You were out cold for a good ten, fifteen minutes.”
Pansy nodded. “Yes, I remember. And then I woke up, and I was perfectly fine.”
Harry frowned. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t.”
Pansy stared at him for a moment, not even sure how to respond to that. If she had been standing here with her husband showing this sort of concern for her well-being, she would have smiled, would have gently touched his cheek, would have placed a simple kiss on his lips before assuring him that she would be just fine.
But this was not Blaise standing in front of her, so instead she settled on exhaling softly. “Potter, this is the only way to prove my theory right, and unless you plan on calling up another Death Eater pal, I am currently the only one who can do this for you.”
“And what if blacking out is the least of our concerns this time?”
“It’ll be fine,” she replied. She waited a beat before adding, “I’ll be fine.”
“Grimmauld Place,” Hermione spoke up from her spot by the couch.
Both Harry and Pansy turned to her voice.
“We can do the spell there,” she continued to their silence. “If the spell still points here?” She gave Pansy a pointed look. “Then we know you’re wrong.”
“Such faith you have, Granger,” Pansy said with a sly smile. “It’s nearly overwhelming.”
Hermione simply scowled at the other woman.
Harry touched Pansy’s elbow again, pulling her attention away from Hermione. “Pansy….”
“It’s done,” she said with a nod of finality. She adjusted the slipping strap of her bag as she turned back to Hermione. “So, bookworm, you ready to do some real magic?”
----------
“I can’t believe you brought her here,” Ron said quietly over Harry’s shoulder.
They stood in the doorway to the kitchen of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, watching Hermione and Pansy discuss the spell as they hovered over the map on the kitchen table.
“For the record?” Harry folded his arms across his chest, leaning against the doorframe. “That was your girlfriend’s idea. Not mine.”
Ron shook his head. “Sometimes, I think she’s too smart for her own good.”
Harry grunted in response as he watched Hermione fold up the map. He stood straighter in the doorway as Pansy grabbed her bag and they started in their direction.
“We’re going upstairs,” Hermione informed them, making a shooing motion with her hand so that they would make way in the door for them to pass.
“Really, Weasley, that means move,” Pansy said, stepping around Hermione and pushing Ron out of the way.
Ron scowled at the woman before turning to Hermione. “If you accidentally kill her, we won’t hold it against you.”
Hermione replied with a roll of her eyes and a shake of her head. She gripped the map tighter in her hands as she made her way between the boys, joining Pansy, who waited patiently at the other end of the hallway at the bottom of the staircase.
Harry exchanged a final look with Pansy, who offered a very small smile, before she followed Hermione up the stairs.
“So this will prove whether or not you’re a horcrux, huh?” Ron asked.
Harry tore his gaze from the now empty staircase to nod at his best friend. “That’s the plan.”
“So,” Ron started, leaning against the wall, “what happens if you are a horcrux?”
Harry frowned at that question, running a hand through his hair. He glanced towards the staircase again, sighing. “No idea.”
----------
Pansy lit the last candle before settling into her spot on the carpet. She looked up at Hermione with a smirk, the other woman still sitting defensively with her arms folded across her chest.
“You’ll cry if I’m right, won’t you?” she teased.
Hermione frowned, dropping her arms. “There’s large chance that you’re wrong. Probability-wise, I‘d say extremely large.” She smiled unkindly. “And if that’s the case, I will gladly say I told you so.”
Pansy returned the smile. “I’m starting to get a vibe here, Granger. That perhaps you don’t like me too much.”
“Really? Just a vibe?”
Pansy grinned. “Touché.” She gathered the two empty vials and placed them in her bag before holding her hands across the map. She raised an expectant eyebrow at the other woman.
Hermione sighed hastily before taking hold of Pansy’s hands. “Before we begin, I have one question.”
“Alright.”
“Harry has placed this blind faith in you, and quite frankly, I don’t get it.”
“That wasn’t a question, Granger. Typically questions end with an inflection in the voice that signifies the other person can answer.”
“Is there anything going on between you and Harry?”
Pansy scoffed. “What?”
“It’s a simple question.”
“And it’s your business because…?”
“Because Harry is my best friend, and he doesn’t deserve to be blindsided by someone like you.”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “I’m not blindsiding Harry,” she replied. “He trusts me because I have earned that trust. And, for the record, no, I did not earn that trust by sleeping with him or whatever it is you’re implying.” She raised an eyebrow. “Now can we move on to more important matters like, say, making sure we’re on the right trail with this pesky horcrux business?”
Hermione responded with a frown and a nod.
----------
Harry paced the kitchen floor, Ron watching him from his spot at the kitchen table. Ron frowned. “Harry, mate, you’re gonna run a ditch into the floor.”
Harry sighed, looking over at Ron apologetically. “Sorry.” He rubbed his hands together and glanced at his watch. “The spell didn’t take this long last time.”
“Well, you have to factor in the fact they probably had to exchange words before they could even get started,” Ron shrugged.
Harry laughed a bit because, quite honestly, Ron was probably right. “You have a point.”
Before Ron could reply, Hermione walked into the kitchen, her face unreadable. Ron stood as Harry approached her. “Well?” he asked.
“She was right, Harry,” she replied, a hint of a frown on her lips. “You are a horcrux.”
“Wicked,” Ron smirked. Hermione shoved his shoulder in response.
“Where’s Pansy?” Harry asked when the brunette did not follow Hermione into the kitchen.
“You killed her, didn’t you?” Ron asked in a hopeful tone.
“Oh hush, no,” she replied, motioning over her shoulder. “She’s packing up her things.”
“And nothing weird happened while she was casting the spell?”
“Actually, the lights flickered quite a bit,” she replied with a look of thought. “They flicker down here too?”
Harry shook his head. “No.” He hesitated. “Pansy didn’t faint or anything, did she?”
Hermione sat down at the kitchen table with a sigh. “I wish,” she replied. She looked up at him. “So now what do we do?”
“Um, hold that thought actually.” Harry quickly turned and made his way out of the kitchen. When he finally made his way to the spare bedroom on the second level, Pansy was in the process of folding up her map. He lingered in the doorway. “You okay?”
Pansy looked up from her spot on the floor with a smirk. “I’m conscious, aren’t I?” She finished folding the map and slipped it into her bag.
“So you were right, I hear.”
Pansy stood, dusting off the knees of her jeans. She smirked. “Did you ever have a doubt?”
“Of course, now I’m not so sure what the next step is anymore,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I’d been prepared to find the last horcrux, destroy it perhaps, and then finally put an end to all of this. Quite different when I am the last horcrux.”
“I think it puts you at an advantage myself.”
“An advantage?”
“Potter,” she sighed, stepping up to him, “don’t you get it? If the Dark Lord can’t get that last piece of himself back, he can never return to full strength. He may be strong now, but you’re stronger.”
Harry smirked. “There you go again being a cheerleader.”
“Because you’re too stubborn to see what’s right in front of you. Without the threat of him finding that last horcrux hanging over our heads, this war can end a lot quicker.”
“Unless he figures it out like you did.”
Pansy gave an exasperated sigh before turning away from him and taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “Has anyone ever told you how difficult you are?”
He ignored her question, his tone serious. “How close is Blaise to the answer?”
Pansy frowned. “He had a setback, of course, by a few days.” She sat forward with a sigh, fingers wrapping around the edge of the bed. “He believes Nott is sabotaging him.”
Harry returned the frown. “Why him and not you?”
Pansy looked up, an almost pained expression on her face. “Because he trusts me more than anyone else in his life.” She closed her eyes, running a hand through her hair. She spoke down towards the carpet. “He believes Nott is jealous that he was put in charge of such an important task.” She looked up. “He has yet to finger Nott as a traitor since it’s not something Death Eaters take lightly, but if Blaise makes another so-called mistake, he’ll either have to turn in Nott or face the consequences himself.”
Harry felt he already knew the answer to the question lingering in his mind, but he asked anyway. “Consequences?”
Pansy frowned up at him. “Death, Potter.” She shook her head before dropping her gaze back to the carpet.
Harry shifted on his feet. “You alright?”
Pansy swallowed hard before laughing bitterly. “I’ve set my husband up for an early, very violent death,” she replied, finally looking up at him. “I’m bloody perfect.” She pushed herself from her seat on the bed, pacing the floor, her hands hastily running through her hair.
Harry watched her with a frown, stepping over to her and taking a gentle hold of her arm to stop her pacing. “Whoa, you haven’t killed him. You said it yourself-- if he makes anymore mistakes. For the most part, our sabotage is done.”
“Potter,” she replied with a sigh, “when I came into this, I expected to die. I expected to be labeled as a traitor.” She shook her head. “I never thought he would take the fall for my misgivings. This is a different plan than I had in mind. This is a death that I don’t need on my hands.”
Harry could only stare at her, stunned that she was even sharing these fears she had obviously had since day one. And sharing them with him of all people.
“One more misstep--be it my doing or his--and that’s it. That’s all it’ll take for the Dark Lord to make an example of him.”
“And what do you think you can do about that? It’s not like you can just turn yourself in.”
Pansy simply raised an eyebrow at that.
Harry’s grip on her arm tightened. “Wait a second. You can’t be seriously thinking about turning yourself in.”
“It’s a possibility, yes.”
Harry scoffed. “And what about all that crap about getting revenge? About sparing your life in the final battle?”
“I’ve done as much as I can. I helped you find the last horcrux, and now everything’s up to you. Quite frankly, my part in all of this is done.” She paused, her tone remaining calm and collected. “As for sparing my life? I’d rather die a traitor than a coward who let someone else take the fall for my sins.”
“So you just make yourself a martyr?” Harry replied with a frown. “How very noble…and stupid of you.”
Pansy snatched her arm back. “I’m most certainly not going to get a lecture on martyrdom from you of all people, Boy Who Lived.” She stormed away from him, standing at the lone window in the room, hands braced against the windowsill.
Harry stood tall, folding his arms across his chest. “You’re not turning yourself in.”
Pansy laughed. “I beg your pardon?” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I believe if I want to do so, I can.”
“I won’t let you,” he countered, going over to her. “Pansy, I know it doesn’t seem like it, but you’re doing the right thing here by helping me and my friends.”
Pansy shook her head. “Potter, just…” She looked over at him. “It’s done. I’ve given you all the pieces to the puzzle, told you all the secrets. This is your battle now.” She shrugged slowly. “And maybe it’s time I face up to my own.”
“No.”
“Potter, you don’t control what I do.”
“So you turn yourself in. Then what? Blaise could very well still die in battle. Hell, he could still make a mistake--on his own--that seals his coffin long after you’ve sacrificed yourself. And then what? Your death was for nothing.”
“Why does it even matter?”
Harry hesitated. “Because… because I care, that’s why.”
Pansy looked up at him before slowly shaking her head. “Don’t.” She started away from him, Harry watching her with a frown.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t do this,” she replied, exasperated, as she turned back to him. “This was supposed to be a simple business deal--in and out. I helped you, you helped me, and then we went our separate ways and lived happily ever after.” She pointed fiercely at him. “There are no feelings in a business deal.”
“No, there typically aren’t,” he replied, cautiously closing the gap between them again.
“So, don’t turn this into something,” she countered, Harry catching a slight nervous hitch in her voice.
Harry frowned, stopping just in front of her. “A little too late, Parkinson.” Pansy moved to shove him away, but he caught her wrists in his hands, holding them firmly. She glared up at him, part pain, part anger. “I’m not letting you turn yourself in.”
“You can’t stop me,” she replied defiantly. “Potter, whatever you think you’re feeling right now, you’re not. You don’t fancy me. This is just your hormones going into overdrive, looking for a release, and I just happened along at the right time.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “You trying to convince me or you?”
Pansy lowered her head. “Harry, let me go.”
He hesitated before releasing her wrists. She wrapped one arm protectively across her chest, her hand gripping the fabric at her shoulder while her other hand rested on her face.
“Pansy….”
She exhaled deeply before dropping her hand from her face. She looked up at him. “What, Potter?”
He gently grabbed her by the nape of her neck, pulling her to him into a kiss. He almost expected to feel a fierce punch or slap across the face, but instead, she kissed him back. Her hands gripped at his shirt, gathering bunches of cloth between her fingers, as his hands slid down to her hips, holding her to their embrace.
He knew they shouldn’t be doing this for various reasons--only one of which was because Pansy was, in fact, a married woman. At the moment, however, none of those reasons mattered. Nothing mattered to him right now other than the fact that when he hadn’t been looking, he had become quite accustomed to Pansy’s presence. And he couldn’t let her walk out now, not if walking out meant that she would turn herself in for simply helping him.
The sound of someone clearing their throat pulled them from their moment. They froze, hands still lingering on each other. Harry looked over the top of Pansy’s bowed head to see Hermione in the doorway. She gave him a look that he knew would mean a lecture at a later time, but she kept her voice nonchalant as she spoke. “I just spoke with Lupin. He’ll be here within the hour to discuss our latest development.”
Harry nodded slightly. “Um, right.” He paused, and Hermione raised an expectant eyebrow. “We’ll, uh, be right down.”
When Hermione did not take that as her cue to leave immediately, Pansy gave an exasperated sigh and removed herself from Harry’s grasp. She determinedly stepped over to the doorway. “Honestly, Granger, that means leave so we can finish what we started.” With that, she shut the door in the other woman’s face.
Harry tried not to look amused--and failed--as Pansy turned back to him. “She’s going to curse you when we get down there, you realize.”
“I’ve dealt with worse,” she replied with a wave of her hand. She closed the gap between them again. “You now have a little under an hour to finish what we started.”
Harry stared at her. “That… that wasn’t my intent…”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “Harry, for once, don’t think, just act.”
“That tends to be how I get into trouble actually.”
“Is this not romantic enough for you?” she teased, her lips quirking into a sly grin. “Perhaps you’d like me to bring you flowers? Serenade you a bit beforehand?”
She began to step away, chuckling under her breath, but she stopped short when Harry’s hand took a firm hold of her wrist. “Pansy, I’m going to say this as nicely as I can at the moment, but shut up.” He pulled her towards him, Pansy falling into him, one hand braced against his chest for balance. Before she could retort with a nasty remark of her own, he silenced her with another kiss.
Chapter Title: Where One Takes a Risk (10/?)
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Harry/Pansy
Prompt: #86 - Choices
Word Count: 4973
Rating: PG/PG-13
Summary: Pansy expected the risk of getting caught, but this is very different.
Pansy inhaled the soft scent of lavender, lowering herself further into the warm bath water until the bubbles tickled her nose. She listened intently to the silence of the house around her. Theodore and Daphne had gone out to dinner, Pansy turning down Daphne’s annoyingly eager invitation to join them. Pansy would have preferred to have suffered an Unforgivable than spend any unneeded minutes in the other woman’s company. Luckily for her, she had her meeting with Potter--or Occlumency lessons as she informed Daphne--tonight.
A frown curling onto her lips, Pansy closed her eyes.
Tonight, she’d find out if Harry still thought her completely insane for even thinking he could be the final horcrux; and she had the feeling that his hesitation on the matter probably hadn’t changed in the seven days since they had last met.
The theory made perfect sense, but at the same time, she could at least understand his hesitation. He had obviously been torn by, and perhaps even a bit afraid of, the possibility. He hadn’t wanted to speak on the matter--not that she would have forced him to do so--but it took a lot of effort on her part to leave him standing alone in his flat that night.
It took a single trip to his old home for her to realize that he’s not the same cool, detached caricature of the Boy Who Lived that she’d always figured of him. Going back home had opened old wounds for him, and it had shown. Painfully so.
“Stupid Potter,” she muttered under he breath, resting her head back against the cool rim of the tub.
They had come into this arrangement as strangers for the most part. Strangers who could have cared less about the other’s feelings, but now… Now she actually felt guilt about not staying to comfort him when he had obviously needed some sort of solace.
She could have at least returned the favor. He had comforted her, after all. She didn’t remember actually blacking out during their incantation, but she did remember that frightening moment right when consciousness returned and she wasn’t quite sure where she was. For a moment, she thought she was waking up from a nightmare, and she had reached out to grab Blaise. But it hadn’t been Blaise’s shirt in her hands, and it hadn’t been Blaise’s voice comforting her or his hands holding her.
And even though it wasn’t her husband telling her she was safe, that she was okay, she still felt the safest she had ever felt in a very long time.
Pansy growled again under her breath.
This was not happening. She most certainly was not starting to feel things for that annoying Boy Who Lived because that would be one of the worst possible ideas known to all of wizarding kind.
Pansy sighed deeply, running her hands through her hair.
Merlin, it was happening.
Pansy looked towards the doorway as a cool draft passed through the bathroom. Blaise stepped into the room with a small smile on his lips. She gave him a curious look as he closed the door and approached her, perching on the edge of the tub.
His fingers trailed softly across the layer of bubbles surrounding her as he spoke. “Evening, love.”
Pansy continued to stare at him, a faint smile on her features. “What are you doing here? I thought you had a meeting tonight.”
“I did,” he replied with a nod, his hand reaching over and smoothing down her wet hair. “Not a particularly long one tonight, it seemed.”
“Anything interesting on the table tonight?” she asked casually.
“Just ponderings on a traitor in our midst.”
Under the water, Pansy’s nails dug into the tender flesh of her own thighs. She kept her voice calm, almost detached, even as her heart began to pound in her ears. “A traitor?”
“In our own house, actually,” he added, his gaze focused on the wall just over her head..
Pansy’s nails dug deeper into her legs, and for a second, she wondered if she would leave bruises in the morning. “What do you mean?”
“I think Nott may be trying to sabotage me.”
Pansy felt her pulse begin to return to normal. “Nott? What makes you think Nott would even do such a thing?”
“He hasn’t exactly enjoyed the fact that I’ve been placed in charge of this horcrux search. Not to mention my ever convenient misplacement of the spell I needed.” He frowned. “It returned to my desk two days following, but I’m quite sure I didn’t just overlook it.”
Pansy sat up slightly in her water. “But do you honestly think Nott would be thick enough to pull such a stunt when we share a roof?”
Blaise smirked. “This is Theodore we’re speaking of, Pansy.”
Pansy nodded, her insides twisting. “Did you turn him in as a possible traitor?”
“No. I don’t have all the proof I need at the moment. Just gut feelings and speculation. If I’m sending someone away as a traitor, I’d like to make entirely sure I’ve fingered the right person. Traitors aren’t to be handled lightly, and it’s not exactly a punishment you can return from.”
Pansy said nothing in response, that nauseous feeling in the pit of her stomach almost overwhelming her.
“But if there’s one more setback, it’s unfortunately my hide--not Nott’s--that will have to face the consequences.” He frowned. “Which makes my need for proof a bit more pertinent.”
“As it should be,” she replied evenly.
Blaise leaned over and kissed her forehead, pushing wet strands away that clung to her cheeks. “You’re about the only person in this world I can trust, you know.”
Pansy offered a small smile.
“Enjoy the rest of your bath, love,” Blaise said, finally standing. “I have a few things I need to take care of.” He started towards the door before stopping, hand on the cool knob, as he turned back to her. “Occlumency lessons tonight?”
Pansy nodded. “Yes.” She swallowed hard, willing away the frown she could feel wanting to escape. “Perhaps my last.”
Blaise tilted his head. “Your last? Already?”
“I think I’ve accomplished enough.”
“I’ll see you when you return then,” he said with nod before leaving Pansy alone in the bath.
Pansy lifted a hand to her forehead, bubbles trickling down her wrist as she closed her eyes. She had gone into this exercise knowing that getting caught was a risk. She had known that she could plan and plot as precisely as she liked, but that risk still hovered over every single thing she did. But she never expected her misgivings to come back on Blaise so harshly.
Name a traitor in his midst or face violence himself.
She didn’t go into their marriage with ideas of undying love and devotion. She had only been doing what was expected of her-- marry into dignity, and if not the Malfoys, the Zabinis would do just as well. She may not love Blaise like she had loved Draco, but that didn’t mean she wanted such a violent demise to befall him.
Especially because of her.
You’re about the only person in this world I can trust.
Pansy closed her eyes tightly together. “Way to twist the bloody knife, Zabini.”
Inhaling deeply, Pansy slid completely under the cooling bath water.
--------
“What are you doing here?” Harry asked, stepping aside to allow Hermione to enter his flat.
“You haven’t been to a single meeting this week,” she replied, frowning and her hands fidgeting with a charm bracelet around her right wrist. She turned to him as he closed and locked the door. “We were worried.”
“I’m fine, Hermione,” he replied, offering up a weak smile before going over to the couch and taking a seat.
“Yes, well, you say that, but the fact still remains that you’ve been avoiding all of us.” She stood at the arm of the couch, not making a move to sit.
Harry sighed. “I’m not avoiding.”
Hermione studied him for a moment. “Does this have something to do with the horcruxes?”
Harry didn’t reply, hoping that if he just ignored the question he had been trying to avoid all week, it would simply cease to exist. He rubbed his forehead, frowning.
Hermione sat down beside him. “It does, doesn’t it?” she said, reading him like she had a tendency to do. “Did you learn what the last horcrux is? Where we can find it?”
“Not entirely,” he muttered in response.
Hermione raised a curious eyebrow. “Not entirely?”
“Pansy seems to think I’m the last horcrux.”
She simply stared at him.
Harry laughed quietly. “That was my initial reaction too.”
“But…but how is that even possible?”
“The night Voldemort tried to do me in with the Killing Curse. There’s a possibility that a bit of a transfer occurred.”
Hermione blinked. “Please don’t tell me you believe this nonsense.”
“I…I don’t know.” He pushed himself off the couch, pacing the floor. “It’s just that… everything adds up. It makes sense, but… But at the same time, I wish it didn’t.”
“Harry, I realize you trust Pansy, but perhaps you’ve been blindsided here.” She shook her head in disbelief. “She could just as easily be trying to lead you astray with this theory of hers. If she makes you think that’s the answer, you’re out of the picture. The Death Eaters can continue their real search while you have nothing.”
“She wouldn’t do that,” he stated firmly.
Hermione stood, laughing dryly. “She wouldn’t do that? Harry, this is Pansy Parkinson. Former Slytherin. Wife of a Death Eater. If there was anything she was engineered to do, it was this. Lead us off track so that we lose the war, lose everything you’ve fought for.”
Harry shook his head. “She wouldn’t, alright?”
“And how can you be so sure? You have nothing but her word that she’s on our side here.”
“And I trust her word.”
Hermione frowned. “Then at least repeat the spell,” she countered. “Repeat it in a different location. If it still points to Godric’s Hollow, then you know she’s wrong.”
Harry frowned, thinking of the unconscious Pansy laid out on his couch. She had claimed to be fine afterwards, but it had still scared him regardless. He didn’t want to put her through that again, but he couldn’t think of any other way to appease Hermione’s worries.
“Well?” she asked expectantly.
Before he could form a response, someone knocked on his flat door. Harry glanced at his watch as he turned towards the door, and he knew exactly who would be greeting him on the other side before he even opened it.
“Pansy,” he greeted, leaning against the door.
“Potter,” she replied cordially, adjusting the strap of her duffel bag on her shoulder. Her lips curled into a slight frown. “So… are you okay after last week?”
Harry raised an amused eyebrow. “Was that actual concern for me?”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “So then you’re obviously fine.” She pushed by him and stepped into the flat.
Hermione stood, arms folded across her chest, as Harry closed the door. Pansy smirked at the other woman before throwing a glance over her shoulder at Harry. “I didn’t realize tonight would be a ménage a trois.”
“I’m not staying,” Hermione replied.
“Pity,” Pansy smiled wryly.
“I was simply stopping by to tell Harry I think he’s made a horrible mistake putting blind trust in you,” Hermione countered casually. “Especially considering this nonsense about him being the last horcrux.”
“Hermione,” Harry sighed.
Pansy held up her hand to stop him. “Is that so, Granger?”
Hermione nodded.
“Then perhaps you’d like to join me tonight when I recast the spell,” she replied frankly.
Harry stared at her. “What?”
She turned to him. “Though I stand behind my theory one hundred percent, even I realize that there is a miniscule chance I could be wrong.” She shrugged and adjusted the strap of her bag again. “By recasting the spell in a different location, we can easily see whether or not I’m right.”
Harry took Pansy by the elbow, pulling her off towards the doorway that led into the kitchen. She gave him a confused look as he released his grip on her arm. “May I ask why you’ve decided to manhandle me? Because I have cursed men for far less.”
“Do you remember what happened last week?” he asked in a hushed tone. “You were out cold for a good ten, fifteen minutes.”
Pansy nodded. “Yes, I remember. And then I woke up, and I was perfectly fine.”
Harry frowned. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t.”
Pansy stared at him for a moment, not even sure how to respond to that. If she had been standing here with her husband showing this sort of concern for her well-being, she would have smiled, would have gently touched his cheek, would have placed a simple kiss on his lips before assuring him that she would be just fine.
But this was not Blaise standing in front of her, so instead she settled on exhaling softly. “Potter, this is the only way to prove my theory right, and unless you plan on calling up another Death Eater pal, I am currently the only one who can do this for you.”
“And what if blacking out is the least of our concerns this time?”
“It’ll be fine,” she replied. She waited a beat before adding, “I’ll be fine.”
“Grimmauld Place,” Hermione spoke up from her spot by the couch.
Both Harry and Pansy turned to her voice.
“We can do the spell there,” she continued to their silence. “If the spell still points here?” She gave Pansy a pointed look. “Then we know you’re wrong.”
“Such faith you have, Granger,” Pansy said with a sly smile. “It’s nearly overwhelming.”
Hermione simply scowled at the other woman.
Harry touched Pansy’s elbow again, pulling her attention away from Hermione. “Pansy….”
“It’s done,” she said with a nod of finality. She adjusted the slipping strap of her bag as she turned back to Hermione. “So, bookworm, you ready to do some real magic?”
----------
“I can’t believe you brought her here,” Ron said quietly over Harry’s shoulder.
They stood in the doorway to the kitchen of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, watching Hermione and Pansy discuss the spell as they hovered over the map on the kitchen table.
“For the record?” Harry folded his arms across his chest, leaning against the doorframe. “That was your girlfriend’s idea. Not mine.”
Ron shook his head. “Sometimes, I think she’s too smart for her own good.”
Harry grunted in response as he watched Hermione fold up the map. He stood straighter in the doorway as Pansy grabbed her bag and they started in their direction.
“We’re going upstairs,” Hermione informed them, making a shooing motion with her hand so that they would make way in the door for them to pass.
“Really, Weasley, that means move,” Pansy said, stepping around Hermione and pushing Ron out of the way.
Ron scowled at the woman before turning to Hermione. “If you accidentally kill her, we won’t hold it against you.”
Hermione replied with a roll of her eyes and a shake of her head. She gripped the map tighter in her hands as she made her way between the boys, joining Pansy, who waited patiently at the other end of the hallway at the bottom of the staircase.
Harry exchanged a final look with Pansy, who offered a very small smile, before she followed Hermione up the stairs.
“So this will prove whether or not you’re a horcrux, huh?” Ron asked.
Harry tore his gaze from the now empty staircase to nod at his best friend. “That’s the plan.”
“So,” Ron started, leaning against the wall, “what happens if you are a horcrux?”
Harry frowned at that question, running a hand through his hair. He glanced towards the staircase again, sighing. “No idea.”
----------
Pansy lit the last candle before settling into her spot on the carpet. She looked up at Hermione with a smirk, the other woman still sitting defensively with her arms folded across her chest.
“You’ll cry if I’m right, won’t you?” she teased.
Hermione frowned, dropping her arms. “There’s large chance that you’re wrong. Probability-wise, I‘d say extremely large.” She smiled unkindly. “And if that’s the case, I will gladly say I told you so.”
Pansy returned the smile. “I’m starting to get a vibe here, Granger. That perhaps you don’t like me too much.”
“Really? Just a vibe?”
Pansy grinned. “Touché.” She gathered the two empty vials and placed them in her bag before holding her hands across the map. She raised an expectant eyebrow at the other woman.
Hermione sighed hastily before taking hold of Pansy’s hands. “Before we begin, I have one question.”
“Alright.”
“Harry has placed this blind faith in you, and quite frankly, I don’t get it.”
“That wasn’t a question, Granger. Typically questions end with an inflection in the voice that signifies the other person can answer.”
“Is there anything going on between you and Harry?”
Pansy scoffed. “What?”
“It’s a simple question.”
“And it’s your business because…?”
“Because Harry is my best friend, and he doesn’t deserve to be blindsided by someone like you.”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “I’m not blindsiding Harry,” she replied. “He trusts me because I have earned that trust. And, for the record, no, I did not earn that trust by sleeping with him or whatever it is you’re implying.” She raised an eyebrow. “Now can we move on to more important matters like, say, making sure we’re on the right trail with this pesky horcrux business?”
Hermione responded with a frown and a nod.
----------
Harry paced the kitchen floor, Ron watching him from his spot at the kitchen table. Ron frowned. “Harry, mate, you’re gonna run a ditch into the floor.”
Harry sighed, looking over at Ron apologetically. “Sorry.” He rubbed his hands together and glanced at his watch. “The spell didn’t take this long last time.”
“Well, you have to factor in the fact they probably had to exchange words before they could even get started,” Ron shrugged.
Harry laughed a bit because, quite honestly, Ron was probably right. “You have a point.”
Before Ron could reply, Hermione walked into the kitchen, her face unreadable. Ron stood as Harry approached her. “Well?” he asked.
“She was right, Harry,” she replied, a hint of a frown on her lips. “You are a horcrux.”
“Wicked,” Ron smirked. Hermione shoved his shoulder in response.
“Where’s Pansy?” Harry asked when the brunette did not follow Hermione into the kitchen.
“You killed her, didn’t you?” Ron asked in a hopeful tone.
“Oh hush, no,” she replied, motioning over her shoulder. “She’s packing up her things.”
“And nothing weird happened while she was casting the spell?”
“Actually, the lights flickered quite a bit,” she replied with a look of thought. “They flicker down here too?”
Harry shook his head. “No.” He hesitated. “Pansy didn’t faint or anything, did she?”
Hermione sat down at the kitchen table with a sigh. “I wish,” she replied. She looked up at him. “So now what do we do?”
“Um, hold that thought actually.” Harry quickly turned and made his way out of the kitchen. When he finally made his way to the spare bedroom on the second level, Pansy was in the process of folding up her map. He lingered in the doorway. “You okay?”
Pansy looked up from her spot on the floor with a smirk. “I’m conscious, aren’t I?” She finished folding the map and slipped it into her bag.
“So you were right, I hear.”
Pansy stood, dusting off the knees of her jeans. She smirked. “Did you ever have a doubt?”
“Of course, now I’m not so sure what the next step is anymore,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I’d been prepared to find the last horcrux, destroy it perhaps, and then finally put an end to all of this. Quite different when I am the last horcrux.”
“I think it puts you at an advantage myself.”
“An advantage?”
“Potter,” she sighed, stepping up to him, “don’t you get it? If the Dark Lord can’t get that last piece of himself back, he can never return to full strength. He may be strong now, but you’re stronger.”
Harry smirked. “There you go again being a cheerleader.”
“Because you’re too stubborn to see what’s right in front of you. Without the threat of him finding that last horcrux hanging over our heads, this war can end a lot quicker.”
“Unless he figures it out like you did.”
Pansy gave an exasperated sigh before turning away from him and taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “Has anyone ever told you how difficult you are?”
He ignored her question, his tone serious. “How close is Blaise to the answer?”
Pansy frowned. “He had a setback, of course, by a few days.” She sat forward with a sigh, fingers wrapping around the edge of the bed. “He believes Nott is sabotaging him.”
Harry returned the frown. “Why him and not you?”
Pansy looked up, an almost pained expression on her face. “Because he trusts me more than anyone else in his life.” She closed her eyes, running a hand through her hair. She spoke down towards the carpet. “He believes Nott is jealous that he was put in charge of such an important task.” She looked up. “He has yet to finger Nott as a traitor since it’s not something Death Eaters take lightly, but if Blaise makes another so-called mistake, he’ll either have to turn in Nott or face the consequences himself.”
Harry felt he already knew the answer to the question lingering in his mind, but he asked anyway. “Consequences?”
Pansy frowned up at him. “Death, Potter.” She shook her head before dropping her gaze back to the carpet.
Harry shifted on his feet. “You alright?”
Pansy swallowed hard before laughing bitterly. “I’ve set my husband up for an early, very violent death,” she replied, finally looking up at him. “I’m bloody perfect.” She pushed herself from her seat on the bed, pacing the floor, her hands hastily running through her hair.
Harry watched her with a frown, stepping over to her and taking a gentle hold of her arm to stop her pacing. “Whoa, you haven’t killed him. You said it yourself-- if he makes anymore mistakes. For the most part, our sabotage is done.”
“Potter,” she replied with a sigh, “when I came into this, I expected to die. I expected to be labeled as a traitor.” She shook her head. “I never thought he would take the fall for my misgivings. This is a different plan than I had in mind. This is a death that I don’t need on my hands.”
Harry could only stare at her, stunned that she was even sharing these fears she had obviously had since day one. And sharing them with him of all people.
“One more misstep--be it my doing or his--and that’s it. That’s all it’ll take for the Dark Lord to make an example of him.”
“And what do you think you can do about that? It’s not like you can just turn yourself in.”
Pansy simply raised an eyebrow at that.
Harry’s grip on her arm tightened. “Wait a second. You can’t be seriously thinking about turning yourself in.”
“It’s a possibility, yes.”
Harry scoffed. “And what about all that crap about getting revenge? About sparing your life in the final battle?”
“I’ve done as much as I can. I helped you find the last horcrux, and now everything’s up to you. Quite frankly, my part in all of this is done.” She paused, her tone remaining calm and collected. “As for sparing my life? I’d rather die a traitor than a coward who let someone else take the fall for my sins.”
“So you just make yourself a martyr?” Harry replied with a frown. “How very noble…and stupid of you.”
Pansy snatched her arm back. “I’m most certainly not going to get a lecture on martyrdom from you of all people, Boy Who Lived.” She stormed away from him, standing at the lone window in the room, hands braced against the windowsill.
Harry stood tall, folding his arms across his chest. “You’re not turning yourself in.”
Pansy laughed. “I beg your pardon?” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I believe if I want to do so, I can.”
“I won’t let you,” he countered, going over to her. “Pansy, I know it doesn’t seem like it, but you’re doing the right thing here by helping me and my friends.”
Pansy shook her head. “Potter, just…” She looked over at him. “It’s done. I’ve given you all the pieces to the puzzle, told you all the secrets. This is your battle now.” She shrugged slowly. “And maybe it’s time I face up to my own.”
“No.”
“Potter, you don’t control what I do.”
“So you turn yourself in. Then what? Blaise could very well still die in battle. Hell, he could still make a mistake--on his own--that seals his coffin long after you’ve sacrificed yourself. And then what? Your death was for nothing.”
“Why does it even matter?”
Harry hesitated. “Because… because I care, that’s why.”
Pansy looked up at him before slowly shaking her head. “Don’t.” She started away from him, Harry watching her with a frown.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t do this,” she replied, exasperated, as she turned back to him. “This was supposed to be a simple business deal--in and out. I helped you, you helped me, and then we went our separate ways and lived happily ever after.” She pointed fiercely at him. “There are no feelings in a business deal.”
“No, there typically aren’t,” he replied, cautiously closing the gap between them again.
“So, don’t turn this into something,” she countered, Harry catching a slight nervous hitch in her voice.
Harry frowned, stopping just in front of her. “A little too late, Parkinson.” Pansy moved to shove him away, but he caught her wrists in his hands, holding them firmly. She glared up at him, part pain, part anger. “I’m not letting you turn yourself in.”
“You can’t stop me,” she replied defiantly. “Potter, whatever you think you’re feeling right now, you’re not. You don’t fancy me. This is just your hormones going into overdrive, looking for a release, and I just happened along at the right time.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “You trying to convince me or you?”
Pansy lowered her head. “Harry, let me go.”
He hesitated before releasing her wrists. She wrapped one arm protectively across her chest, her hand gripping the fabric at her shoulder while her other hand rested on her face.
“Pansy….”
She exhaled deeply before dropping her hand from her face. She looked up at him. “What, Potter?”
He gently grabbed her by the nape of her neck, pulling her to him into a kiss. He almost expected to feel a fierce punch or slap across the face, but instead, she kissed him back. Her hands gripped at his shirt, gathering bunches of cloth between her fingers, as his hands slid down to her hips, holding her to their embrace.
He knew they shouldn’t be doing this for various reasons--only one of which was because Pansy was, in fact, a married woman. At the moment, however, none of those reasons mattered. Nothing mattered to him right now other than the fact that when he hadn’t been looking, he had become quite accustomed to Pansy’s presence. And he couldn’t let her walk out now, not if walking out meant that she would turn herself in for simply helping him.
The sound of someone clearing their throat pulled them from their moment. They froze, hands still lingering on each other. Harry looked over the top of Pansy’s bowed head to see Hermione in the doorway. She gave him a look that he knew would mean a lecture at a later time, but she kept her voice nonchalant as she spoke. “I just spoke with Lupin. He’ll be here within the hour to discuss our latest development.”
Harry nodded slightly. “Um, right.” He paused, and Hermione raised an expectant eyebrow. “We’ll, uh, be right down.”
When Hermione did not take that as her cue to leave immediately, Pansy gave an exasperated sigh and removed herself from Harry’s grasp. She determinedly stepped over to the doorway. “Honestly, Granger, that means leave so we can finish what we started.” With that, she shut the door in the other woman’s face.
Harry tried not to look amused--and failed--as Pansy turned back to him. “She’s going to curse you when we get down there, you realize.”
“I’ve dealt with worse,” she replied with a wave of her hand. She closed the gap between them again. “You now have a little under an hour to finish what we started.”
Harry stared at her. “That… that wasn’t my intent…”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “Harry, for once, don’t think, just act.”
“That tends to be how I get into trouble actually.”
“Is this not romantic enough for you?” she teased, her lips quirking into a sly grin. “Perhaps you’d like me to bring you flowers? Serenade you a bit beforehand?”
She began to step away, chuckling under her breath, but she stopped short when Harry’s hand took a firm hold of her wrist. “Pansy, I’m going to say this as nicely as I can at the moment, but shut up.” He pulled her towards him, Pansy falling into him, one hand braced against his chest for balance. Before she could retort with a nasty remark of her own, he silenced her with another kiss.