Weep No More

As a child, Pansy had always loved stories. She would beg her mother to tell her fairy-tales of princesses, dragons and heroes. She loved to hear how beautiful women were rescued by handsome men. Her favourite story had been the one where the prince of a lost land found true love with a common, not so pretty woman. Pansy had always thought that she and Draco were like two characters from a fairy-tale.

When she had turned ten, her grandmother had attended her birthday party. Her grandmother was well known for being a mistress of potions and herbs. A strict woman who came from an infinite line of Purebloods, of course, but still caring and generous and sweet like a grandmother ought to be.

Pansy remembered her visit so well, like if it were written inside of her head. It had been a quarter to seven when a storm started to brew. The house-elves started an inviting fire in the main drawing room, and all of Pansy's relatives gathered around to talk about current events. It was then that Pansy asked her grandmother to tell her a story. It had been the biggest mistake she had ever made. After all, her grandmother wasn't exactly known for her princess stories.

"A story?" had asked grandmother, confused. "You want a story, girl?"

"Please, grandmother," Pansy begged, "it can be a short one if you wish."

"Pansy, don't bother your grandmother!" hissed Pansy's mother, looking upset.

Grandmother chuckled and petted Pansy's head. "If a story you want, I shall give you a true story. Nothing of fiction and fantasy and all that nonsense. Listen well, child, for this is a story that happened to your ancestors and many other wizards before."

Pansy had never been told a true story, at least not that she knew of. So, she moved closer to her grandmother and listened with all the attention a child could give when interested in something.

"It was many years ago when the Parkinsons first became such a wealthy and respected family," started grandmother. "They attended parties, ate the finest foods, lived in the best houses, and knew the most incredible people. One Parkinson, however, was not a wizard that found happiness in wealth and luxury. He was called Marius, my mother's great-great-great-grandfather. Marius was a funny chap, always in the mood for an adventure. He was great at Charms and Transfiguration. He'd go out into the woods with just his dog and his wand. Many thought he was insane.

"One day, he found an adventure. The Parkinsons use to have an estate in Spain, one that Marius enjoyed and visited frequently. It was during a bright, sunny day that he decided to ride his finest mare towards lands beyond the estate. Lands that weren't protected by magical wards and that no one had been to before. After all, in that day there were many, many Muggles that knew about our kind and even tried to kill us."

"Why would Muggles want to kill us?" Pansy had interrupted, confusion showing all over her face.

"Because they are Muggles," said her father, scowling. "Dreadful creatures who, if they ever find out about us now, will bring our world down."

"Marius had already set off and was having the time of his life," continued grandmother. "He had never felt so happy setting off on an adventure. He was sure he'd find treasures and other things that no one had ever seen before. He thought he would bring a bigger glory to the Parkinson name. Alas, that did not happen." Grandmother sipped a bit of her tea before continuing, "It had been hours since he had rode off, seeking an adventure, when he spotted something peculiar. There seemed to be a small village not far off his camp grounds. Marius quickly rode towards it, curiosity getting the best of him.

"Only after he rode in, got off his horse, and greeted the villagers with a tip of his hat, did he notice these people were witch-hunters. At first, they did not know he was a wizard, but Marius made a huge mistake: he Disapparated. He left the village and went back to his camp in a blink of an eye. Instantly the hunters knew what he was and set off to find him."

"What happened?" asked Pansy, frantically. She had never heard a story so frightening before.

"When they caught him they burned him to the stake. They snapped his wand, so he couldn't do any magic and made sure that he was burned. During the burning, they made Marius stare at his reflection. The mirror they used was bathed in magical properties, stopping him from doing any internal magic such as Apparating." Grandmother sighed and drank the rest of her tea. "Many a Parkinson has died from either a witch-hunter or an Auror. Do be careful, my child. Small mistakes have cost us our lives."

Pansy sighed and leaned against the door labelled Maple. That story had remained in her mind forever. And now, that she was stuck in a village full of witch-hunters, she was frightened.

"Going to get something to eat?" Percy asked her, as he came out of his room. Draco did not follow.

"I don't think so. I'm just getting some water for Granger," said Pansy. "She's fallen asleep. The potion is tiring her too much."

"I would imagine so," Percy said. He looked at a portrait (which, of course, did not move) nervously. "Er, do you want to accompany me? To have something to eat, I mean."

Pansy felt impressed. Obviously Percy was not pleased with the sudden arrangements, yet he was trying to make the best of it. And he was asking her to eat something with him.

"Why not?" she said, trying to sound sure of herself.

Percy smiled. He followed her down the stairs, leaving Draco behind to whine and Hermione to have a peaceful sleep.

The first thing Pansy noticed, when she got downstairs, was how busy The Daily Token was. Apparently, everyone in the village had gathered. The storm was still brewing outside and the villagers muttered hateful things to it.

"What can I get you two darlings?" Fiona asked, as she poured them each a cup of tea. "I do recommend the sausages."

"I'll have the tomato soup," said Pansy, wrinkling her nose at the thought of eating something as heavy as sausages at night.

"I'll have the same," Percy added with a smile to Fiona and a wink to Pansy.

Fiona smiled brightly and went to place their order.

"I want to go home," said Pansy, once she eyed two men giving her peculiar looks. "This place is absolutely awful."

"There's not much we can do until the storm settles," Percy explained. "And the people here seem somewhat decent."

"Until they discover what we really are and decide to burn us!" hissed Pansy.

"Keep your voice down," snapped Percy. "Don't worry, Parkinson. By morning we'll be on our way."

Pansy glared at him, but said nothing. After all, he was the one with the wand. Not that using it would be wise in their current situation.

"I want to take a look around town," Percy said casually. "Perhaps when the rain settles down a bit. I want to see where they..." He was cut of abruptly as Andrew settled two bowls of soup down.

"Thank you," said Percy and Pansy, both desperate for something to eat.

Andrew looked at Pansy carefully. "You come from a rich family?" he asked her.

Pansy smirked at Percy. "Yes, very rich. Why?"

"Your clothes," Andrew explained, "Not many women in this village where such fine clothes. Unless, of course, you count the witches."

"One doesn't need magic to make money," Percy said.

"No, but magic does make clothes," Andrew spat, he slammed a hand down on the table.

Pansy watched in horror as her bowl toppled over and its continents spilled onto her lap. She shrieked and jumped up. "Look at what you did, you wretched boy!" she yelled. "My dress!"

"I'm sorry, it was an accident," Andrew said, not looking the list bit sorry.

"Andrew!" exclaimed Fiona, rushing with paper napkins to Pansy's side.

Pansy growled at the girl, snatching the napkins out of her hands. Her dress was ruined! Her favourite dress!

"Excuse my brother," said Fiona apologetically. "He gets a bit overexcited sometimes."

Pansy just glared. Andrew smirked.

"It's all right," said Percy, feeling danger coming. "Pansy, go upstairs and get changed. Fiona will bring you another bowl of soup."

"You are going to pay for my dress!" snapped Pansy, poking Andrew's chest violently with her finger.

"I shall pay for no such thing, witch!" exclaimed Andrew.

Pansy wanted nothing more to get Percy's wand and hex the Muggle, but instead she slapped him across the face, and said, "Never call me such names!" She threw a dirty look at Percy and marched upstairs, happy with her little act.

By the look on Percy's face, so was he.

*

When Percy had left, Draco had taken the liberty to shower. Unfortunately, he did not have any clean clothes to wear after, and that caused a bit of a problem. Wrapping the towel tightly around his waist, he went into the room next door in hopes of finding some clean clothes.

"Granger!" he yelled startled, when the girl surprised him.

Hermione was sitting on a chair, her arms around her legs. She blushed when he walked in.

"I thought you were downstairs with Weasley," Draco said.

"He went with Parkinson, I think," said Hermione, her gaze fixed on the carpet.

Draco felt somewhat jealous but dismissed it. "Do you know if those Muggles brought any clothes for us to change into?" he asked.

Hermione clutched her head. "No, not again," she whimpered.

Draco quickly walked across the room and caught her as she fell off the chair. "Bugger you, Granger," he swore. "Bugger you and your stupid headaches."

Hermione opened her eyes. "Hullo, Father," she said, her childish voice barely above a whisper. "I'm pretending to be a bunny."

"A bunny?" Draco lifted an eyebrow curiously. Hermione scampered away from his arms. She was on all four, sniffing the air like a rabbit.

"An Easter bunny, a chocolate bunny, a fluffy bunny," she told him.

"I'm sure you are," he said, rolling his eyes. "Do you want a carrot, then?"

Hermione scooted on all four towards him. "No." She sniffed the air again and wagged her behind. Draco cleared his throat nervously.

"You're not a bunny, Granger," he said calmly, "you're a person."

"I know that," she said, "I'm just pretending. Would you like me if I tasted like chocolate?"

"I wouldn't like you if you were a million galleons, Granger," said Draco tiredly. He didn't want to think about sexual innuendos at the moment.

"Father," Hermione said, moving towards him, "can you show me how to make baby bunnies?"

"Ma - make -" Draco spluttered, his breaths becoming shallow. A faint, red blush was making its way up his neck. "Granger, you've gone mad! I will not show you how bunnies have sex!"

Hermione shook her behind as someone knocked at the door.

"I, er, who's there?" called Draco. Please don't let it be, Pansy, please.

"It's Fiona," the girl called out. "I have a few things for you."

Draco groaned. "Would you happen to have clean clothes?"

There was a confused sound from the other side of the door. Hermione sniffed at Draco. "No, sir," Fiona finally said.

"Would it possible if you - oi, Granger!" yelled Draco, as Hermione settled herself on his lap.

"Sir?" Fiona asked, confused.

"Clothes, er, could you bring me some clean clothes, please?" Draco said, trying to move Hermione off his lap.

"Yes, I'll be right back." Footsteps were heard as Fiona dashed off.

"Granger, get off!" yelped Draco.

"Like bunnies," pleaded Hermione.

"Go get yourself a weasel!"

Hermione blinked at him. She stared down at her lap and his. Suddenly, she moved away from him, quickly.

"What were you doing?" she shrieked, her voice back to normal.

"Me? Me!" demanded Draco. "You were the one crawling onto my lap. You were the one asking me to teach you how to do the naughty. You were the one trying to take my towel off!"

"Why are you just in a towel?" spat Hermione.

"Trying to do the hula!" he said sarcastically. "For a bookworm, you're pretty thick, Granger."

Hermione threw a pillow at him. "Get out!" she growled. "Get out! Get out!"

Suddenly Pansy barged in, followed by a tired-looking Percy. They both stopped and stared at Draco and Hermione. Pansy's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"What in Merlin's name is going on here?" demanded Percy.

"Granger was trying to get into my trousers... er, towel," said Draco.

"I was not!" Hermione spat.

"What are you doing with Granger just in a towel?" shrieked Pansy.

"I'm waiting for Fiona to bring me clothes!" exclaimed Draco.

"Fiona?!" Pansy yelled.

"Hermione, go into my room," said Percy, rubbing him temples. "And lock the door, so you won't hear when I kill Malfoy."

"What?" snapped Draco.

"Don't you dare touch him!" Pansy said.

"Excuse me," said Fiona, who had just arrived. She carried a white shirt and a pair of jeans in her arms.

Percy grabbed the clothes and chucked them harshly at Draco.

Draco managed to duck the shirt, but the jeans collided into his face. "What was that for?" he demanded.

"Stay away from Hermione!" snapped Percy, going into the other room and slamming the door behind him.

Draco flinched slightly and picked up the clothes. Fiona smiled weakly. Pansy looked overprotective.

"I'll go heat up some soup, shall I?" Fiona said, looking at Pansy. "You two might need some warming up." She gave another weak smiled and closed the door behind her.

"Are you all right?" Pansy asked, looking at the angry red bruise that was forming on Draco's face.

He touched his nose and flinched again. The pain would subside eventually. The towel was slipping dangerously from his waist. But it was Pansy, so modesty was not important.

"I like your tattoo," Pansy said, like she had said a hundred times before.

It was a tattoo he had got last year. Done by magic, of course, so there had been no pain like those idiotic Muggle needles. Everyone thought he was going to have a dragon etched on his back; his name being a favourite joke among the Slytherins. He had surprised them, though, when he returned the next day sporting a bewitching hawk on his back instead. Its dark feathers reflected off Draco's pale skin enchantingly. Under the bird, the words Divide Et Impera which meant divide and rule, the Malfoy view of the world, was printed.

Pansy traced the tattoo with her fingers. Draco smirked, but she couldn't see. He liked Pansy's touch. It was always soft. As if she were plunging her hand into your soul.

He got up and stretched, the towel slipping a bit more. Pansy didn't react towards it. He moved to the bed and patted the space next to him with a sly grin.

Pansy shook her head. "I want to eat," she complained, as she moved towards the bed, but didn't go on it. "My last soup was thrown on top of me."

"I'll give you something to eat," murmured Draco seductively, as he pulled her towards him.