Archive of Our Own

Going home shouldn’t have been a fearful thing. 

She hadn’t planned to ever set foot on Parkinson Estate again, had no real reason to with her parents long gone within the unforgiving walls of Azkaban, and yet there she stood on the property line, willing herself to enter. 

When she received the letter from a solicitor on the tenth anniversary of her parents’ sentencing that the deed and magical command of the home had transferred to her, Pansy nearly incinerated the scroll on the spot. 

Both Draco and Theo had been there when it came, which gave them an opportunity to share their perspectives on being members of C.R.A.P. (“Children Raised by Appalling Parents”). They encouraged her to at least consider venturing out to the estate, both having found a sense of comfort within the reclaimed walls of their respective estates. 

She recalled their words about the healing that came with turning their homes into something that was no longer harmful or painful as she entered the estate and took in all of its hauntingly macabre fixtures.

If she ended up hating the project, she would fix it up and sell it to some muggle family for a fraction of the cost and let the magic of the property fade into oblivion. The idea of generations of Parkinsons rolling in their graves as things like electrical outlets and garish accent pillows replaced their certifiably ancient furnishings brought a pleased smile to Pansy’s face as she stepped through the front door. 

Her grin quickly faded, however, and a sour-tinged feeling of regret replaced any optimism she may have felt. The Parkinson Estate had sat barren for the last decade, and the creeping sense of despair that clung to the home’s structure proved that fact relentlessly. Pansy hesitantly made her way down the once familiar foyer and explored the winding halls of her childhood home. It felt far more foreboding than she remembered it. Perhaps some of the inky darkness that had stained the hearts of her parents had found a way to occupy the residence in their absence. 

“Lumos,” she whispered into the dimness, allowing her wand to cast a singular burst of light in an attempt to drive out the darkness of each room she passed. Each one sat in various states of disarray. Portraits lay face down on the ground, brought loose from faded sticking charms. Thick layers of dust coated the mantles and clouded clock faces. Pieces of furniture sat overturned with splintered wood littering the surrounding area, likely a remnant of whatever raid had taken place in those initial days following the war.

She held her breath and attempted to keep her rising stress at bay. Those would all be problems for a later day. This visit was solely about assessing what she’d gotten herself into.

Pansy made her way to the large doors that led out to the garden and took in a contented breath at the scent of apple trees and honeysuckles that flooded her senses. Despite the lack of care, the magic of the property had kept the expansive garden wild and thriving.

There was a time in her younger years when she’d sneak out there at dusk to study the stars as they appeared. She cast her eyes upwards and watched a few twinkling constellations begin to take shape against the darkening sky. A dull ache formed in her chest over the memory of all the summers spent lying in the grass and watching those same stars, wishing desperately for things in her life to be different. 

A small voice of logic echoed far in the back of her mind at that fact. Things were different now. She had the freedom to do whatever and be whoever she wanted, but she felt stuck, caught in the limbo of ‘then’ and ‘now.’ 

She sighed and willed herself to wander further into the grove of trees before coming to rest against the large trunk of a leafy willow just outside the main copse. As she lingered, Pansy chided herself over how much time she had let go by, allowing her feelings of grief and regret to turn into stagnation.

All of the people she cared about had moved on. They had grown and forgiven, created lives that meant more than the names they bore. Why couldn’t she be brave enough to do the same? 

Pansy knocked her head against the thick base of the tree to disrupt her thoughts and was startled a moment later by a small rustling noise beside her.

“Hello?” she offered cautiously into the darkness. When no reply came, she squared her shoulders and slowly rounded the tree to face her potential attacker. “Answer me at once or I swear to Circe I’ll hex you into tomorrow.”

Instead of a response, she was met with hollowed, skeletal eyes and expansive wings darker than the night itself, no more than half a meter away from her. 

On instinct, Pansy released a blood-curdling scream and ran for the house without a second glance behind her. 

It took Pansy three days before she felt safe enough to return to the Parkinson Estate again. On her second visit, she made sure to come during broad daylight to minimize the risk of encountering the hellspawn that had attempted to… do something harmful to her, no doubt.

She had mulled over the option of listing the property on the market as-is just to get it out of her hair, but the guilt of unleashing that winged beast on an unwitting purchaser led her to file a claim with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures instead, who promised to send someone to investigate it. 

Pansy could just make out the silhouette of the DRCMC agent assigned to her case as he walked up the paved path to the front gates. The closer he got, the more her face scrunched in unexpected curiosity at the identity of the man approaching.

If she didn’t know any better, she would assume it was Ron Weasley based on the red hair alone, but that couldn’t have been right. She had only seen the youngest Weasley brother a few times in passing over the years, but always in his DMLE uniform. 

“The Ministry must have gotten their missives crossed,” she said as Ron approached. “I specifically asked for someone from the Magical Creatures department. An Auror is hardly necessary for this sort of thing.” 

“I agree. That’s why I’m here.” He stopped just shy of the property line and adjusted his appearance to reveal the badge that had been obscured by the lapel of his coat. 

Pansy leaned in to read the inscription: Ronald Weasley. Assistant Department Head, DRCMC.

“That feels…new.” How long had it been since she’d seen him in Auror robes? Surely not long enough to warrant such a high leadership position.

Ron scrubbed at the back of his neck and let out a sheepish laugh. “The badge is. The promotion only came a few weeks ago, but I’ve been in Magical Creatures for… Merlin, nearly four years now, I’d say? It all blends together after a bit.” 

Her bottom lip arched into an appraising frown while she debated how to respond. The DRCMC was such an unexpected career for someone who had quite literally helped save the wizarding world. An image of him, Harry, and Hermione from a years-old edition of the Daily Prophet flashed in her mind briefly. She struggled to reconcile that toothy, gangly savior with the composed, stocky man standing before her. 

“Always thought you’d be on the front lines forever. Saving the world, one miscreant at a time,” she finally said. 

Ron considered her words with a shrug. “People change,” he said thoughtfully before gesturing toward the gates with his head. “Shall we?” 

The simplicity of his answer took her by surprise. People change? He made it sound so easy. 

She cleared her throat to avoid ruminating longer than necessary on something Ron Weasley had said and instead led him onto the grounds. 

“So… the case files said that there was a level four creature of some kind. Based on your request, I have an idea of what we might be dealing with, but it would be helpful to hear it in your own words.” He paused while pulling out a small journal of case notes as they walked, glancing sympathetically at her as he did. “Only if you’d like to share, of course. I know interactions with these sorts of things can be a bit frightening to some. No need to relive that if you don’t want to.” 

Pansy huffed indignantly at his assumption. The last thing she needed was for someone, especially him, to think that she was some fearful, haunted thing who couldn’t handle a simple creature at her home… even if that were the case. She tightened her fist at her side, little moon-shaped indents leaving an impression in her palm as she decided how to respond. 

The day after her encounter, Pansy fled to the aisles of Flourish and Blotts to try to determine which beast had frightened her so badly the night prior. While her initial search helped identify it as a thestral, it was the additional findings that proved to be more concerning than the creature itself. While reading, she discovered that they could only be seen by someone who had experienced the weight of death.

That fact quickly rose to the forefront of her mind at Ron’s question. Telling him that she could see the thestral would mean that she’d encountered death in some way, and the fact of that was not something she was willing to share with anyone, least of all someone she hardly knew.

Pansy swallowed back her insecurity on the matter and let a wall of defense take its place. “I didn’t see it. I only heard it.” Ron’s expression twitched almost imperceptibly while she spoke, so she pressed on to avoid giving him an opportunity to object. “I asked around and a friend of mine mentioned that it might be a thestral that had wandered onto the property.” 

He nodded slowly, his face surprisingly composed and unreadable.

She stopped in front of the willow tree on the edge of the apple orchard. In the daylight, it looked far less threatening than it had felt a few nights prior. “This was where it was; where I heard it.” 

“You know, even though thestrals have a four X classification, they’re actually pretty docile.” Ron slowly walked around the circumference of the tree, pausing occasionally to kneel and survey the tampened dirt or an odd groove within the tree bark. “They’re endangered, so putting such a high warning on them gives them the peace they need to live their lives without interruption.” 

“That’s rather thoughtful,” she mused as she continued to study his actions. 

“Whatever we can do to help creatures thrive is the main goal of our department.” His eyes flicked up to hers as he dusted his hands to rid them of rogue bits of tree debris. “The ‘regulation’ and ‘control’ within the department title are misnomers, in my opinion.” 

Pansy hummed in acknowledgement. There was something almost captivating in the way Ron spoke about the thestrals and his care of creatures. He discussed their existence in a reverent way, almost as if he regarded them far higher than himself.

 “Did you find anything?” she asked to save herself from lingering on that line of thought. 

Ron rose to his full height and pulled a small whistle from his pocket. “A few things. This’ll clear up my suspicions, though.” 

Before she could question what he meant, he brought the metal bar to his lips. A whisper-quiet hum pierced the air, and then, much to Pansy’s dismay, Ron turned his attention to the sky. 

“Don’t tell me those monsters can fly, too.” Her snark was the only thing that veiled her growing concern. 

She felt the whoosh of air at her back before she heard the impact of its hooves landing on the grass behind them. Ron and Pansy turned at the noise and came face to face with a large, regal-looking thestral that stared at them curiously. 

It was every bit as disconcerting as it had been the first time. The late autumn sun stretched out the thestral’s cadaverous figure into eerie proportions that struck a chord of fear within Pansy. On instinct, she reached for Ron’s wrist to stabilize herself. 

Logic caught up to her a second later, realizing that her reaction was far more telling than her words had been. She quickly released his wrist and cleared her throat to regain her composure. “Well? Is it here?” 

She cringed at the noticeable waver in her voice, but if Ron saw through her lie, he made no attempt at saying as much. Instead, he walked up to the thestral and placed a gentle hand on its bony muzzle. “Right here, yeah,” he replied, not once taking his eyes off the creature. 

Pansy kept herself planted a safe distance away while Ron trailed his hand along its flank. 

“This one’s a female,” he explained while earning several quiet bristling noises from the thestral at his soothing actions. “A mother, actually, which means there’s likely an entire brood hiding out here somewhere.” 

“Oh, great,” she bemoaned. She’d never be free of the estate at this rate. 

Ron chuckled at her reaction and carefully backed away from the thestral, bowing his head respectfully once he was back in its line of sight beside Pansy. “It’s actually pretty impressive that they’re here. It means she felt safe, which is a hard thing to come by with thestrals.”

She snorted at the notion of safety being associated with the Parkinson Estate. “While that may be the case, I really can’t have one, let alone multiple, on the property.”

He nodded in understanding and tucked his hands into his pockets, bracing himself against the chill that had slowly begun to settle as the sun crawled closer to the horizon. “I’d be happy to relocate them for you, but it’ll take some time. They aren’t inherently trusting creatures, so I’ll have to earn that before she considers letting me close to her foals. Once that’s sorted, I can take them somewhere else.” 

“Will they be safe there?” The question left her mouth before she could anticipate it. 

The surprise on her face earned a smile from Ron, one that reminded her of the dopey, endearing one of their youth. “They will. I promise. Now, if it’s alright with you, I can come back weekly to begin the process.”

Pansy’s gaze drifted to the thestral. The creature had lost interest in their conversation and had started nibbling at the grass beneath it, much like a horse would. It didn’t seem as threatening when occupied with such a mundane task. 

She noticed Ron’s eyes on her a few seconds too late. Pansy averted her eyes and nodded in an attempt to redirect the conversation. “Fridays work. I can meet you here at three each week.”

“I’ll be here,” he replied warmly. Pansy waited in the silence that followed to see if Ron would acknowledge the attention she’d given to the thestral beside them. Instead, he let out a laugh to diffuse the awkwardness that had inadvertently settled over them. “Come on. I’ll walk you back to the house.” 

He led her a safe distance away from the thestral before starting the trek back the way they’d come. With Ron’s attention fixed on the path ahead, Pansy indulged in a discreet glance over her shoulder, taking note of the way that the thestral continued to pluck at the grass while they departed. 

“I brought you something,” Ron said as he walked up the path to the Parkinson Estate on his first official visit. 

Pansy arched a brow when he presented a book to her. “You’re meant to be earning the trust of the thestrals, Weasley. Not mine.” 

He tossed a smirk at her from over his shoulder while they made their way to the foyer. “Two birds, or however the saying goes.” 

“Thank you, but that’s hardly necessary,” she started, hurrying to fall in step beside him to hand the book titled Graceful in Death: Understanding the Thestral back to him.

Ron gently pressed against the book and guided it back to her. “Would it make you feel better if I told you that Hermione lent it to me from the Malfoy library?”

She let out a small, resigned grumble, which elicited the warm smile Ron had given her when he’d first shown up the week prior. 

He waited for her to accept the book before continuing. “I thought it might be helpful for you to understand a bit more about them in case you ever encounter one again.”

It was an unexpectedly considerate gesture, one that she wasn’t quite equipped to respond to. Her fingers traced over the leather cover, taking note of how it was raised in certain areas to depict the outline of a thestral. 

“That’s what they look like,” Ron said while angling his head to look at the cover in her hands. “Beautiful things, aren’t they?”

He departed a moment later, leaving Pansy to frown at both the embossed thestral and his shrinking figure as he headed outside. She shook her head while thumbing through the various illustrations within the book, struggling to understand how someone could ever consider something so dark and scary to be beautiful. 

Each turn released the tension in her brow as she studied the illustrations with growing interest. The furrow returned almost immediately, however, when she flipped to the middle of the book, and a small cream-colored paper fluttered to the ground.

Given what Ron had said, she half-expected it to be a stray piece of parchment filled with scribbled annotations from Hermione. Instead, she was greeted with a short ledger from Flourish and Blotts that had yesterday’s date in the top right corner, along with a copy of Graceful in Death: Understanding the Thestral listed as the sole item of purchase.

Having Ron at Parkinson Estate every Friday was starting to feel like a routine. The day before his second visit, she’d sent an owl to his office letting him know that she’d taken down the wards around the property that week, meaning he was welcome to apparate directly onto the grounds instead of needing to be let in upon his arrival. 

That adjustment had landed Pansy in a rather interesting situation. Three in the afternoon came and went without much notice on that second Friday. Ron hadn’t come up to the main house at all to let her know that he had arrived, nor had she heard the telltale crack of apparition through the open window of the solarium she’d been reorganizing. 

It wasn’t like she was expecting him to do either of those things. Though passively, she had thought it would have been nice to tell him that she’d spent the last few nights reading through the book he’d borrowed from Malfoy Manor—the one that, when brought up in casual conversation, Hermione had absolutely no knowledge of—and that she’d found it to be surprisingly insightful. 

The sound of a soft, bright chuckle out in the yard pulled her attention from casting cleansing charms on the sunbleached cushions of the solarium later that afternoon. Her feet carried her over to the window, and she was met with the sight of Ron laughing as the mother thestral nuzzled against his chest. 

“Aren’t you a sweetheart? I’d call this a bit of progress, wouldn’t you?” he cooed while ducking to catch the creature’s gaze. 

Pansy’s hand rushed to her stomach as a surprising, fluttery feeling rippled through it. The visual of seeing him—no, seeing someone in general, she corrected—be so trusting and caring around a creature that was so associated with pain was moving to say the least. She couldn’t help but stare, committing the juxtaposition of it all to memory.

“Hi there, Pansy.” Ron’s attention had shifted from the thestral to her, his face wearing that recurring smile he seemed to always show her. 

Her eyes grew wide over being caught. She gave him a tight smile and a sheepish wave before hurrying out of the solarium to put as much space between them as possible.

The door that led to the garden creaked open, signaling another visit from Ron. “Pansy? Are you around?”

Her head popped up from where she’d been crouched over a box of pewter candlesticks in dire need of polishing. “Everything alright?”

He approached a few moments later, leaning against the archway of the room she occupied. “Completely,” he noted with a grin. “Just thought I’d see if you wanted to come outside for a bit. See some of the progress I’ve made with the thestral.” 

Pansy shook her head before he’d even finished his offer. “I’ll pass, thank you.”

“Oh, come on—” Ron pushed off the frame and walked towards her. A small flare of excitement shot through Pansy’s system at the sight of his approach. 

He offered her his arm, which she skeptically accepted after a moment of deliberation. “Alright, but just for a bit.”

“It’ll be fun, I promise,” he said while leading her down the hall and out into the yard. “And this way, you won’t have to worry about the window getting in the way of your watching.”

The warmth of embarrassment attempted to bubble within her at his jest, but when she looked up at him, Pansy was met with a delightfully good-natured grin. He was teasing her.

She bit the inside of her cheek to suppress her smile over the realization and turned her attention to the path ahead of them. “Can I ask you something?”

Ron tightened the crook of his arm to keep Pansy’s grip secure as they walked down a few stone steps. “Go right ahead.”

“Why did you stop being an Auror?” It had been on her mind for the last few weeks since his initial arrival, and now seemed as good a time as any to ask. “You always seemed good at it.”

“There’s a difference between being good at a job and enjoying it.” Ron took a deep, considering breath before pressing on. “I felt a bit lost after the war. I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted to do with my life, so I sort of just did what I thought I should.”

She nodded in understanding, somewhat awestruck by how willing he was to share himself so vulnerably with someone he barely knew.

“I knew I enjoyed helping those in need, so becoming an Auror made sense. After a while, though, it all felt like too much.” Ron’s expression flickered, just barely giving way to a deeper emotion hidden beneath the surface. “My brother invited me out to Romania for a bit while he was on assignment for the DRCMC. That’s when I realized that my purpose was still to help those in need, but instead of people, I focus on the creatures.” 

He stopped at a section of apple trees and looked over at her. “Although I’m not opposed to helping people, too,” he added with a wink before releasing her arm and walking over to where the mother thestral stood. 

Pansy’s heart fluttered for a moment at the possible double meaning of his words. Of course, he was helping her by relocating the thestrals off of the property, but was she wrong in assuming that he might have been flirting with her? She quickly tried to will away the blush that stained her cheeks as she caught up to him. 

“Would you like to pet her?”

She looked at him sharply. “Are you out of your mind?” 

Ron’s hands shot up innocently. “I wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t safe. Do you want to?”

Her eyes flicked between Ron and the thestral. She had been learning so much about them lately, and she couldn’t help but see the creature in a new light as it stood in front of her. 

“I promise I won’t let her hurt you.”

His words felt so honest, and because of that, she trusted that Ron would keep her safe. She relinquished her hesitations and nodded. 

He carefully took her hand and guided her closer to where the thestral stood. He moved to stand behind her and closed his hand over hers to guide it along the thestral’s flank.

“Good job. Just like that, Pansy,” he said softly beside her ear.

Her breath hitched at the encouragement and the soft-spoken way her name sounded coming out of his mouth. The suddenness of her surprise seemed to frighten the thestral, making it shuffle uncomfortably under their touch. 

“Oh!” Pansy yelped, startled in her own right by the creature’s movements.

“You’re safe, I promise.” Ron placed his free hand on her waist to stabilize her, pulling her snugly against his broad frame to keep her steady. “I’ve got you.”

For several long moments, they stayed in that arrangement: Ron’s hands holding her with barely an inch between them while they pet the thestral. Neither of them dared to break the configuration until the thestral grew bored of their attention and drifted away to inspect a different patch of grass.

With the creature gone, they were left in a rather compromising position. Pansy became hyper-aware of how closely Ron was pressed to nearly every part of her backside. His hands held her waist and the back of her hand so assuredly, and she realized then just how dry her mouth had gotten. 

“I should—” Pansy started, carefully untangling herself from his hold.

Ron nodded far more than necessary. “Absolutely, I’ll just—”

His voice trailed off as the inadvertently intimate moment quickly replaced itself with awkward tension. Pansy opened her mouth to try to say something to salvage whatever had just happened between them, but Ron spoke up before she had a chance.

“I’ll see you next Friday.” She only caught a glimpse of the pink hue staining his cheeks before he quickly headed out of the grove of trees to apparate away. 

Pansy had spent most of that next week waffling between writing out a letter of apology—for what, she wasn’t quite sure—and operating under the assumption that Ron would simply not return that coming Friday.

Much to her surprise, he apparated into the back gardens at three in the afternoon, just as he did every week. She considered going out there to say something to him, but her anxiety got the better of her, relegating her to the solarium once again to watch. This time, however, Pansy made sure to stay hidden behind the curtains. 

She wasn’t sure what had changed to make all of this feel so complicated. His behaviors toward her didn’t make sense, which was confusing in its own right because everything he’d done over the last several weeks had been nothing short of transparent.

Maybe the problem was something to do with her. In any other circumstance, she would have interpreted such touches and trust as flirting, but the very fact that it was Ron doing it gave her pause. 

How had all of the others done it? There was more than one instance of marriages taking place across the line between opposite sides of the war; Ginny Zabini and Hermione Granger-Malfoy were two prime examples. They had found it in their hearts to forgive Blaise and Draco for their involvement in the war and created a life with them.

If Ron knew the depths of Pansy’s involvement, knew of her inaction within the war, would he extend that same grace to her?

Pansy stopped herself as the gravity of her musings caught up to her. She couldn’t logically put her few interactions with Ron, however disarming they were, in the same thought process as forgiveness and marriage.

She ruled it as textbook overthinking and busied herself with her list of tasks instead.

As the sun began to set, Pansy stole another look out into the garden and noticed that not only was Ron still there well past his working hours, but he seemed to have made himself comfortable with a baby thestral resting against his thigh. 

Curiosity got the better of her, and soon, she found herself walking down the path to investigate.

Ron patted the grass beside him upon her arrival. “This little gal’s mum finally trusted me enough to be alone with her babies,” he remarked as Pansy settled into the space next to him. 

“That’s—Wow. That’s really incredible.” She could hardly believe that in a few short weeks, he had managed to prove that he was someone safe and trustworthy in the eyes of such an enigmatic creature. 

Pansy couldn’t ignore the similarities between her situation and that of the thestral on her property. As she studied the dozing foal on his lap, a realization came to mind: If the thestral could trust Ron with something so important to her, perhaps she could do the same.

“I think it’s only fair that you know—” Pansy took in a stabilizing breath before looking at Ron. “I can see the thestrals.”

His eyebrows rose briefly as he let out a soft hum in acknowledgement.

The groan and successive bat against his arm that came from her over his response mildly bothered the napping thestral foal beside Ron. “Oh, come off it. I know you know that I can.” 

“I didn’t want to pry,” he admitted with the same sheepish look that appeared so naturally on a face like his. “You clearly had a good reason for not wanting to share that you could, so it didn’t seem right to press you on it.”

Pansy frowned again. How was it possible that this man continued to surprise her with his behavior? While she would never claim to have known him, the preconceived notions she held were constantly dispelled with every visit he’d made to her home. 

“You do a lot of things that I wouldn’t expect you to.” 

Ron angled his head as he considered her words. “Is that a bad thing?”

Her voice came out whisper-quiet when she answered. “I just don’t understand you.” 

“Do you want to?” 

Yes, Pansy wanted to say, although she wasn’t certain she’d be able to explain what that desire meant or how to act on it.

Ron cleared his throat and shifted his attention to the sprawling grounds of the estate before them. “You know, I couldn’t see thestrals until halfway through the battle on the day the war ended. All the others could see them after Fifth Year with everything that happened at the Ministry, but I don’t think I quite understood death then like I did that day.”

She had heard murmurings of things taking a turn at the end of their Fifth Year. That was the summer that Draco’s father had gone to Azkaban, and the other side had lost Sirius Black. “Did the others know you couldn’t see them?” 

Ron pursed his lips and shook his head. “They hadn’t asked. I knew what they were meant to look like, so I pretended,” he winked at her then, nudging her shoulder playfully, “whenever the odd situation would arise.”

“It’s a good strategy,” Pansy remarked as she nudged him back. 

He hummed in agreement before continuing on. “It was one thing to pretend, though, and another thing entirely to finally be able to see them. I saw—” Ron’s voice broke slightly, but he cleared it away. “I saw Lavender Brown that night. She’d been attacked by a werewolf, and there wasn’t anything we could do to save her. It wasn’t her fight, but she still lost for all of us… because of all of us.” 

Pansy’s heart ached at the pain in his voice. The confession felt so deeply vulnerable that she reached out a hand to his knee and gave it a comforting squeeze. 

“Thank you for telling me,” she managed to say, knowing steadfastly that an apology from her for his grief wouldn’t begin to atone for the losses he’d experienced. Much to her relief, his hand came to rest on top of hers. His fingers wrapped around hers and squeezed once in an unspoken acknowledgement. 

The intimacy of Ron cradling her hand within his own felt dizzying. The warmth of it loosened the restraints on the deepest secret within her heart and allowed it to float to the surface, ready to finally see the light of day. 

“That night was when I was able to see thestrals, too.” Pansy looked down at his hand, focusing intently on the delicate valleys between his knuckles. “I had meant to leave after we were let out of the dungeons. I went down to the Quidditch pitch to apparate home and find my parents, but then I saw Colin Creevey.”

Ron didn’t interject, but nodded in understanding.

She considered stopping, but physically couldn’t. Pansy had to get the words out, even as she felt tears dot along her waterline. “I was coming down the path to the field and could hear him screaming all sorts of obscenities at the two Death Eaters that were approaching him. I didn’t know him, but I can only imagine how much fire he must have had during school.”

“You don’t know the half of it. Bloody kid always had something to say,” Ron noted with a wistful chuckle. 

Something between a laugh and a wet sob escaped from Pansy at the knowledge of who Colin was before the war. “He gave them hell, but gods, he was only a child.” She sucked in a wavering breath at the truth of the statement. “Colin was a child, and I stood there while they killed him.”

“Pansy—”

“I can’t move on from it, you know? His life ended that night because of the things that my parents believed in and taught me to believe in. I held onto that belief until the second I heard his voice. After that, none of the hatred that they’d conditioned me to feel felt right anymore. It made me feel so ill, Ron. For years after, I’d get so sick to my stomach thinking about all the things I could have done to spare his life. I regret all of it so much.”

She couldn’t be bothered to stop the tears. Pansy had never shared so vulnerably before, too afraid to let herself be exposed and appear weak or inferior for grieving or wanting to change. 

“I don’t know how to move past any of this. I want a fresh start and I want to experience new things, and change, but—” The warmth of Ron’s palm on her cheek quieted her spiraling sadness. His thumb gently wiped a stray tear away while watching her with undivided attention. 

“It’s alright that you feel all of those emotions. I’d be concerned if you didn’t, frankly. But you can’t let them hold you back.” He caught another tear on the tip of his thumb and pushed it away with another swipe that felt far more fond than she could process. “Things can change. You can change. If you want something, you should go after it.”

The meaning of the words slowly worked their way into her mind, unlocking something that she hadn’t been able to access over the last decade. Is that how all the others had done it? Accepted what had happened and acknowledged the weight of it, and then set out to create a life worth living because of those losses?

She hesitantly leaned into the hand that was still pressed against her cheek as the sentiment settled within her. There were so many grander things to apply his principle to, but for now, she didn’t think there was any better application than using it on something right in front of her. 

Pansy glanced down briefly at Ron’s lips; the plump swells of them were so much closer to her than she’d realized. After a second of deliberation, she leaned forward to leave him with a tentative, but intentional, kiss of gratitude. 

The moment froze around them, with the sounds of the settling evening and the soft hums of the sleeping thestral foal serving as the only noise. Ron remained still against her lips, lingering against them before slowly pulling back. 

When he pulled away, her instincts willed her to put up her guard and extract herself from the situation to spare herself any further regret, but she stopped the thoughts from progressing further, because Pansy didn’t regret it. 

Through Ron’s action over the last month, she had experienced so much care and kindness, and as a result, had learned a great deal about trust and healing. There was something to be said about the appropriate time for sharing such an intimate gesture, but Ron had made it possible for her to feel hope for the first time in a long time, and she wasn’t going to let that go so easily. 

His eyes tracked over her face, so she did her best to meet his expression with the utmost assurance. Ron’s brows flickered once, coming to some conclusion she wasn’t privy to before leaning in with the hint of a smile on his face and kissing her properly. 

Pansy’s hand tightened on his knee as their mouths slotted together, angling with delicate slides and warm lips. She didn’t think she’d ever been kissed so thoughtfully. Ron’s hand slid up into the hair along her temple while swiping along her bottom lip inquisitively.

The longer they kissed, the more Ron’s quiet confidence seemed to turn into something courageously hungry. His free hand abandoned the little thestral beside them in favor of cupping her other cheek to pull her closer to him, while hers moved to the base of his neck. Pansy rose to her knees and let a soft whimper flutter against his mouth at the feel of his tongue continuously exploring her own. 

With a simple adjustment, her leg landed on the other side of Ron’s lap while being careful not to break apart their kiss. Just as she was about to settle against the tops of his thighs, an affronted huff sounded from beside them, followed by a bothered little thestral getting to its feet and moseying away. 

“Someone’s not a fan,” Pansy noted with a chuckle against his mouth.

Ron nodded, burying his face into her neck to hide his laugh. “Let’s hope she doesn’t go off and tell her mother on us.” His hands slid down to her hips and squeezed once. He let out a slightly winded breath as he met her eyes. “We can stop if you’d like. I don’t want to—”

“You don’t want to what?” She pulled back to see more of his face and linked her hands behind his neck. “Kiss me?” 

His cheeks bloomed with a brilliant shade of red that was just visible with the dusky evening light. “Merlin, that’s not what I was about to say. I definitely would like to do more of that.” 

Pansy settled closer to his chest and leaned in once again, feeling more empowered than ever. “Good, because I was just starting to feel like I was going after what I wanted.” 

“Come here, Pansy,” Ron breathed out almost reverently against her lips.

Her mouth was on his a moment later, acting with a renewed fervor. His arms banded tightly around her waist, keeping her flush with every part of him. 

Ron’s warmth, the one that seemed to exude with every stomach-fluttering smile he’d give her and every gesture of kindness that came so second-nature to him, left her skin burning to be close to him. She wanted to feel that same kind of warmth, wanted to radiate it like he did. 

His mouth trailed away from her lips to kiss along the column of her neck, peppering her skin with teasing nips. “Is this alright?” 

“It’s lovely.” Pansy’s fingers wove themselves into his hair and held him close until he latched onto the curve of her neck. “Oh, that’s really lovely,” she added, far breathier than before. 

Her hips rolled against his as she arched into the love bite he’d started to leave on her, causing a throaty rumble to echo from him. “You can do that again if you’d like. Feels nice.”

She wrapped her arms securely around his shoulders and rocked her hips with a little more intentionality than before, angling and adjusting them until she found a position that had them both clutching tightly to the other. 

“There you go. Just like that, Pansy,” he praised while leaving a necklace of kisses across her chest. “Gods, you feel incredible.”

She could feel the hardened ridge of his cock between her thighs with every cant forward, indicating the truth of his words. Pansy’s head leaned against his, releasing a desperate whimper into his ear from the flares of warmth in her lower abdomen. “So good,” she breathed out raggedly in agreement. 

“I’ve got you,” he reassured her. “Let yourself have this.” Ron’s hands soothed along her back as she freely took from him, echoing his continued words of encouragement through action. 

“Ron—” 

“That’s it, love.” 

Pansy guided him back to her lips and kissed him urgently while the swells of an orgasm unexpectedly began to rise within her. Her mouth met his in a broken, disheveled way, but Ron was quick to go wherever she needed him to be. 

After two more rolling arches against his lap, Pansy came with a shuddering gasp. She held tightly to him as his hands fell down to her hips, carefully coaxing her through the radiating pleasure with measured drags over the cock trapped within his trousers. 

As she slumped against him, Ron ghosted a few kisses along her cheek and temple before letting out a disbelieving laugh and holding her tightly against his chest. “When I said ‘if you want something, you should go after it,’ I didn’t think I would be included in that list.”

Pansy groaned, only partially embarrassed over the notion. She burrowed her face into the curve of his neck and stole a quick kiss against his flushed skin. “Neither did I,” she noted while shuffling backward to straddle his thighs. 

Ron’s grasp shifted to the sides of her legs, rubbing them gently while his gaze drifted to where the thestral had wandered off to. “I can come back early next week to relocate the entire herd now that the mother trusts me.”

With his attention averted, Pansy’s face fell into a frown over the subject change. She wasn’t sure what exactly she’d been anticipating following their unexpected entanglement, but with her emotions already so exposed, it was nearly impossible to hide the disappointment she felt. “Of course. That should be alright.” 

“I could come back on Friday, though.” He slowly turned to face her again, his brows furrowed together with thinly veiled nervousness. “If you’re still free, that is.”

“You’d want to? Even without the thestrals?” The idea of spending her Friday night working through Ministry paperwork, or whatever closing processes were needed to finish off her case, didn’t sound pleasant, but if it gave her another opportunity with Ron, she’d be more than willing to oblige.

A tentative smile began to spread across his face. “Mhm. No thestrals means we could go wherever you’d like. Dinner might be nice…”

Oh. 

Pansy blushed as the realization hit her. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth to suppress her grin in an attempt to remain cool and indifferent. “I should be free.”

His face lit up then with the grin that was quickly starting to become her favorite sight. Ron cupped her cheeks and pulled her close before replying with an earnest “I’ll be here,” against her lips.

As she kissed him once again, Pansy replayed his words in her mind, unable to ignore the rising hope in her chest that Ron’s promise extended beyond Friday. Perhaps he’d be here for many, many days to come.