For a Pound of Flesh

"What's this?"

Ron turned away from unpacking his suitcase to see what Hermione was talking about. He began to choke on air. In his wife's hand was Pansy's broken wristlet.

"Oh damn!"

Ron tore his gaze away from the children. He knew he was likely to regret it, given the way the trio were whispering to one another. He was sure the girls were going to convince Hugo to touch the twisty, white statue before them that sort of reminded Ron of a Patronus. Oh well, getting kicked out wouldn't be the end of the world. He was getting rather bored of all the rather pretentious stuff they were seeing, anyway.

Ron's eyes fell on Pansy's round arse. In that moment, he could not help but appreciate how her jeans hugged the curves of it. He wished Hermione would wear such form-fitting pants… A moment later, he had the decency to blush when Pansy cleared her throat. "Sorry," he said. Then, remembering her earlier exclamation, he asked, "What's wrong?"

She thrust her wallet-purse-thing beneath his nose. "My wristlet broke!" she complained.

He shrugged off the bag with his kids' things. "Throw it in," he said.

Pansy frowned. "I can carry it."

Ron rolled his eyes. "C'mon. You'll be whinging about it all day otherwise."

"I will not!" she cried, face flushing.

He shook his head and began to put his bag back on. Pansy grabbed it before he could get it halfway up his arm. "Fine!" she huffed. "Just don't forget it's in there."

Ron smirked. "I won't."

Clammy and cold from the memory, Ron lunged forward and snatched it from Hermione's grasp. "Nothing!" he said.

Hermione let it be taken but scoffed. "Ronald," she warned. "I'm not blind. Why do you have a woman's wristlet? Who's it belong to?"

He looked down at it. The faux green leather was a bit worn in places, showing gray material it was truly made of beneath. Sighing, he whispered, "Pansy Parkinson."

His wife gasped. "Ronald!" Fingers wrapping around his chin she forced him to look at her and demanded, "How in Merlin's name did you end up with her wristlet?" Gaze scrutinizing and bleak, she asked, "Don't tell me you stole it?"

He wrenched his face away from her hold. "No!" he snapped. "What kind of man do you think I am?"

Wringing her hands, Hermione looked to the wristlet that still lay in his grip. "A good one," she said. "But Ron even good ones have… lapses."

The word echoed in Ron's mind, dredging up memories of Pansy's plump lips and the feel of her breasts in his hands. Shaky once more, he whispered, "I wouldn't. Not ever in that way."

Nodding, Hermione took a seat on their bed. In the quiet between them, she continued to stare at the wristlet. Her expression was intense and sharp. He knew she was attempting to think of a scenario where he could have gotten his hands on it. Sighing, Ron tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans before taking a seat beside Hermione.

Reaching for her hand, relief washed over him when she threaded their fingers together. Softly, he began, "You know I was pretty upset with you. We were on holiday. Work wasn't ever supposed to come up."

"You know–"

Ron raised his free hand. Hermione's mouth shut with an audible click and her lips pressed thin. In thanks, Ron squeezed her hand. "Well, lo and behold, Pansy was staying at the same hotel as us. The morning after you left, the kids and I went down for the continental breakfast. They were being fussy. Then this little girl came up to us and I didn't recognize her immediately, but her Mum sure recognized us."

"Pansy?" Hermione inquired.

He nodded. "Yeah. She tried to get her daughter to leave us alone," Ron lied. Then, smirking a smirk that was more true than fake, he remarked, "Merlin, was that kid stubborn." Shaking his head, he continued, "We ended up sitting together once Freesia got the kids on board with all of us eating together. After that, we ended up going to a museum and that's when Pansy's wristlet broke and I put it in my bag."

Hermione frowned. "Did you go to more than the museum together?"

"Love–"

"Ronald," Hermione hissed.

Ron hunched forward. "Yes," he answered.

Hermione got up and began to pace. "I should be angry with you," she said. "We both know what kind of person she is, but…" Turning back toward Ron, she got down on her knees and took his hands in hers. "If it made the kids happy, I'll try to let it go."

Astonished at her generosity, he replied, "It did make them happy. Pansy's a bitch still, but her daughter… She could be really bratty, but she loved playing with Hugo and Rosie. I don't think she got cross with them even once."

His wife smiled. "That's lovely. I'm glad to hear the holiday wasn't a complete wash."

Ron pressed a kiss to Hermione's temple. "Yeah, me too," replied Ron, astonished to realize he meant it.

Pansy cupped her daughter's face in both hands. She took in the short, square shape that was all Parkinson, the sharp cheekbones, the slight, pointed nose that were easily identifiable as Malfoy. Then the cupid-bow mouth that she loved to watch curve with a smile. That, without any doubt, was a gift from her beautiful grandmother, Narcissa. Tracing the crescent shape of her daughter's fine brown brows with her thumbs, Pansy gazed into her breath-taking crystalline blue eyes and thought to herself, 'Don't forget this moment…'

Cupid-bow lips pursed. "Mum," Freesia grumbled.

Pansy took her hands back. "You do well now, don't forget to write."

The girl looked toward the pillar she was to run through. "Why can't you come?" asked Free.

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. Pansy had explained it at least a hundred times now, she was sure. It was best no one knew Pansy was Freesia's mother. There were children at Hogwarts who remembered the war. They'd been small then, no more than five or so, but she knew for a fact that the darkness of that time left deep, festering scars on them.

There were children who'd known the kiss of a mother only to have it ripped away through violent means, there were youths who recalled deserting their homes in the middle of the night because their fathers were Muggleborns, and even worse, there were teens who'd been attacked themselves as little ones. Bone china white masks lurked in their nightmares and they bared physical marks ranging from twisting scars incapable of being buffed away to missing limbs and senses.

Pansy had been on the side losing side that committed those atrocities. If anyone were to realize… She shivered at the thought of the revenge that would be enacted upon her daughter in lieu of her. Pansy said nothing of this, however. Her daughter didn't need to know the truly terrifying implications of being marked as her daughter.

"I've said before," she told her daughter, tone impatient and bordering on angry. She was getting quite sick of repeating herself and her daughter's stubborn insistence on not understanding her veiled words. "I was on the losing side of the war and am not well liked. If I come with you, the ruse will be up and everyone will know you're mine and treat you as such."

"But I don't care if people know who you are."

Sighing, Pansy reached out and ran a gentle hand through her daughter's long tresses. "You think that now, but I know you will, should it be found out."

Freesia glowered. Pansy lowered her gaze and began to smooth the wrinkles from the cardigan her daughter wore. "Do you remember what your dad is supposed to look like?"

Taking a step back, Freesia snapped, "Yes!" Crossing her arms and creating new wrinkles in her cardigan, she bit out, "He's himself, but his hair's charmed brown like mine and he has a beard – like Mister Weasley does." She cocked her head. "Why can't you charm yourself like him?"

She pretended to not hear her daughter's pointed question. Pansy had no interesting in meeting with Draco in her daughter's presence. There was little doubt in her mind they'd quarrel and ruin Freesia's first send-off (more than it already was, anyway).

"That's right," replied Pansy. "Your father looks more like you than ever before." Staring at her daughter, she did her best not to sound desperate (though she could not stop her voice from warbling), as she asked, "Aren't you going to kiss me goodbye?"

Freesia's expression remained hard for a beat as if she was going to be mulish and ask again why Pansy could not come. Much to her relief, though, it melted as she threw herself at Pansy. "I'll miss you, Mummy!"

Squeezing her daughter tight, Pansy rocked side to side with her daughter and kissed her before letting her go. "I'll miss you too, my beautiful girl."

Eyes glossy, Freesia said goodbye one final time before rushing the pillar that led to the platform where her father and the Hogwarts Express awaited her. Standing there for a long time after, Pansy wrung her hands and checked her watch. Eventually, from behind, a voice called, "She's fine, Pansy."

Spinning around, she narrowed her eyes at the sight of the brunet man before her. Draco didn't look much like himself at all, she had to admit. It settled her heart some. It was unlikely anyone even suspected, let alone realized that he was Draco Malfoy in disguise seeing off his eleven-year-old daughter. Crossing her arms, Pansy asked, "Did she wave to you from one of the windows?"

"Yes," replied the man, amused. "Even better, she was waving alongside another little girl. The two were smiling at each other and pointing at myself and what I assume to be her family as they did so."

Pansy let her her arms fall loose at her side, relief filling her. "It never ceases to amaze me, how quickly she makes friends."

Draco's lips lifted with a smirk. "It's the Malfoy charm at work."

"You wish," Pansy scoffed. "It's far more likely that the little girl sensed she was a natural leader and fell into place beside her. That leadership is a trait of Parkinsons, I'll remind you."

Laughing falsely, Draco said, "Whatever you say, Pansy."

Pansy knew she was supposed to insist it was a Parkinson trait, shove it down Draco's throat that Free was more her daughter than she would ever be his, but instead, she turned her gaze to her shoes and told Draco, "I need a favor."

There was a moment of silence followed by a softly murmured, "Oh?"

"Would you take Free for the holidays? I have… Plans… and Free doesn't fit in them."

Draco's brows furrowed. "What kind of plans? Are they with a man? Please tell me it's not with Weasley. He's married, Pansy. And Potter's best friend to boot. if anyone caught wind–"

"–They are not plans with him!" Pansy cut in viciously. "My plans are not your concern, either! All I need to know is if you will take your daughter into your home for Christmas or if I am to tell her she must spend her holidays without family at Hogwarts!"

The man put up his hands, though his expression was disgruntled. "Fine," he grumbled. "I'm sorry that I thought we could have a civil conversation for once. And yes, I can take our daughter into my home for the holidays. Scorpius will be overjoyed."

Sneering at him, Pansy replied, "Thank you." Then, hitching her purse higher on her shoulder she said, "Now, I really must be going. My shift at the hospital starts in an hour."

Draco's expression was muddled with confusion and anger, but he nodded nonetheless and curtly replied, "Goodbye, Pansy."

"Goodbye!" she returned before turning heel and stalking away into the moving throngs.

She couldn't believe his nerve! Demanding that he know her plans for the holidays! She'd never asked his once over the years!

The unyielding back of the plastic chair he sat in was uncomfortable, the room was far warmer than he cared for, and the looping movie-menu music on the telly was slowly getting to him. He'd never been a fan of hospitals, but Muggle ones were their own special kind of torture. Irritation building, he began to bounce his leg to the tune of a nursery rhyme Hugo liked about soldiers going up and down a hill. A few moments later, Ron nearly jumped from his seat altogether when a hand grabbed his knee and squeezed.

"You're the most annoying man I've ever met," Pansy hissed.

Ron glared at her. "You're the one who invited me to your appointment."

Her hand flew to her stomach. "Mine and the baby's. Which, I will remind you, is half yours."

Ron made a derisive noise in the back of his throat. "Hermione never asked me to come to these early appointments." As soon as the words left his lips, it dawned on him. This invite was a pretense for the real reason Pansy wanted to see him. Annoyed with himself for being hoodwinked by this snake again, Ron made to grab his coat when Pansy yanked on his ear. "Ouch!" he yelped.

Other expectant mothers and their spouses glanced their way. Some only looked mildly curious, as if they were entertained by them, while others appeared as if they were just one more exclamation away from complaining to the receptionist. It cowed Ron in a way so few things did. He did not like negative public attention.

"Don't you dare leave me!" Pansy growled.

Settling back in the chair, he leaned in close and snarled back, "Then you tell me the real reason for me being here."

Pansy fell away from him. Turning he saw that she was studying him closely, perhaps gauging his receptibility to another lie. In response, Ron hardened his expression and squared his shoulders. He would not be falling for any more lies from her.

"How are you so sure why I asked to see you today is a lie?" she demanded.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Hermione never made me come to either of these early appointments for Hugo or Rosie – like I already told you. On top of that, there's no way you're afraid to see the healer. You work with healers all the time."

She smiled. "Healers are the worst patients, you know."

He snorted. "Maybe," he relented. "I still know that's not why I'm here."

Pansy sighed. Rolling her neck, she finally said, "There is something I want to talk about. But not here. After my appointment and somewhere a little more private."

"Private? Pansy, we can make wherever we are private." Ron waved his pointing finger around, pantomiming a wand. "We're you know."

She frowned. "Humor me. I'm carrying your baby," she said.

He crossed his arms and looked away. "Is that going to be your go-to for my cooperation?"

Pansy didn't bother to squash the smirk that came to her lips. "If it works!" she replied sounding terribly pleased with herself and amused.

Irritation sparked in Ron's chest, but unlike Pansy, he did not let the emotion get the better of him. Instead, he smothered it and turned himself away from Pansy. He'd play along with her a while longer, (because he needed to know now why Pansy insisted he come) but he was done trying to be nice.

It never got him anywhere with her.

Pansy plucked at the too-tight bracelet around her wrist. She knew she was stalling, and surely Ron did too, but he didn't say anything. Maybe he'd figured out why she invited him back to her place? Pansy hoped he hadn't, honestly. She didn't like the idea of him knowing she was lonely without Freesia.

Stirring his spoon around in his empty teacup, Ron drew Pansy's attention back to him. Looking just a little smug, he asked, "So, what's it you wanted to talk about?"

Her hand went to her stomach. It was too early to feel the baby kicking and moving, but she still knew exactly where it was. "I wanted to talk families," she said. "I still don't like the idea of it going to your brother."

Ron's expression turned stormy. "Percy is a great father," he said. Then expression lightening just a little, he explained, "We always used to think, 'Sweet Salazar, Percy's kids are going to be extremely dull and snotty,' but that's not true. He's protective of his daughter, Molly, and a stickler for her following rules, but he and his wife have raised her really well so far.

"She's only six, but she's got opinions on things; like orange is the best color in the world, and Merlin help anyone who disagrees, and she's really good at making others smile and laugh. Everyone agrees she's going to give George a run for his money when she gets a little older."

Nodding her head along, Pansy stayed quiet for a couple of minutes after his little speech. She needed him to feel she was really considering what he was saying, (even though she wasn't). "He sounds like he's done a good job with his daughter," she replied. Then, carefully, she added, "I'm not saying he can't be an option, either, Ron, but I've thought of someone I might like our baby to go to as well."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" he asked.

She glared at him, disgusted at his condescending tone. "Yes!" she snapped. "Just because I've not got anyone in the magical world I would consider leaving our baby with does not mean I've no one I trust outside of Freesia!"

Ron blinked, then, averted his eyes, embarrassed. "Okay, sorry," he said. "So who's this family you're considering?"

"Do you remember Tracey Davis? She was in our year and a Slytherin like me."

He tilted his head back, eyes on the ceiling. "Kind of," he said. "She was short, right? Had a loud laugh, too."

Pansy dipped her head. "Yes, that was Davis."

"So, what about her?" he asked.

Pansy straightened a little in her seat, preparing herself for his coming objections. "It was her who connected me with her Uncle when I moved to the Muggle world. He has a wife, but no children. They are Free's godparents. We see them once a year around Easter, usually. They also send Free gifts for her birthday and Christmas. They're a little older, but I know they'd be overjoyed to have a child."

He began to drum his fingers across the table top. "I don't know…"

"Ron, Tracey's uncle was disowned because he married a Muggle. He's what you would consider a good man," Pansy argued, hoping he would see sense.

He met her gaze. "I'm sure," he said, "but that's not what I'm worried about here. You said they were older. How are they going to keep up with a little kid? And how good is their health? I don't want our child to be losing parents before they're grown." He crinkled his nose. "Or feel strange because their parents are so much older than all of their friends."

Pansy puffed out an annoyed breath. "Ron, men and women are having families later and later all of the time. The baby'll be far from out of place if we adopt them out to the Davis's. As for them dying? Your brother or his wife could just as easily die before she's grown. Things happen."

Ron crossed his arms and tucked his chin close to his chest. Pansy thought, 'Here we go, he's going to say no.'

"I want to meet them, first," he declared. "It's one thing, the baby going to my brother. I know they'll be loved and happy there. But I know nothing about this couple you want to adopt our baby out to."

She felt her mouth fall open in shock. Then, quickly shutting it, she scrambled up from her seat to get a piece of paper and a pen. Coming back to the table, she scribbled down a few dates she could potentially take off from work and passed it to Ron. "Are you free any of these days? I could take you to see them on one of these dates."

Ron stared at the notepad a moment. Then, tapped his finger next to one of the dates and said, "The second of October. I should be able to get my mum to watch the kids and I don't usually work Tuesdays at George's anyway."

"Brill," Pansy said, feeling some of the tension in her shoulders ease. "I'll give the Davis's a call." Then, hesitantly, she asked, "You're really going to consider them? This isn't just you trying to… appease me, is it?"

He snorted. "Trust me, if I were trying to appease you, you'd know. I'm not a good liar like you."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Great."

"So, um, since that's settled for now… How's Freesia? Is she liking Hogwarts?"

She eyed him for a moment. His expression seemed earnest enough. "Quite well, thank you. She has made a number of friends already." Smiling a little, she told him, "One of them being a niece of yours. Vicky?"

Ron grinned. "Yeah, Vicky is Bill's daughter." Leaning in he added, "I hear from Neville Freesia's pretty chatty. He's had to ask her a few times in his class to be quiet while he was trying to lecture."

Pansy's heart constricted. She knew Weasley's weren't known for their intelligence, but this seemed a particularly daft move on Ron's part. "You asked about her?" she demanded.

His brows furrowed in a manner that made him look quite clueless. "What?" he muttered, then, what she was saying appeared to dawn on him and his countenance took on a look of horror. "No! He just mentioned her. He talks about his students, I just kept out an ear for her."

Pansy placed a hand on her chest. "You should have said," she grumbled.

"Why would you think I asked in the first place? I'm not an idiot," he said.

She made a point of saying nothing. While he was not completely without a brain, Pansy did feel he was a bit of a dunderhead. After all, if he'd been smart, they wouldn't be in this situation at all, would they?

He made an angry noise and pushed away from the table. "Fine, whatever," Ron grumbled. "Look, I have to go. I told my mum I'd be back ten minutes ago to pick up the kids."

Pansy didn't stand up. He knew the way out. "Goodbye," she said, turning her attention to the half-full cup of tea in front of her. Ron rolled his eyes and said nothing before shoving his hands in his pockets and walking out. Picking up the cup of tea, Pansy grimaced at the feel of the lukewarm liquid in her mouth. Swallowing it down, she put her cup back down and sighed.

"Just a while longer, Pansy, and this disaster will be over," she told herself.

How'd you like this chapter guys? The new potential family for the baby?

Thank you for reading everybody :)