WHO: Sebastian Dunstan, Pansy Thorndike & small cameos by their daughters WHEN: Friday, 2 September 2005 WHERE: Pansy’s farmhouse in Sudbury WHAT: Bastian is released and returned to polite society RATING: PG
Thirteen days. By Bastian’s estimation it was thirteen days since he’d watched as Theodore and Blaise were sentenced by that farce of a court. Of course his math could be off. That wasn’t unlikely. He’d lost track of time. Of night and day, of when he slept or ate or bathed. Everything was a blur. Only the voice piped into his room was clear in his mind. Even that he had a hard time believing. Bastian had lost all trust. Mostly in himself.
Every day an elf had come to escort him through the maze of locks and wards. The process had taken the better part of the morning or afternoon, whichever it was but as they reached the bottom and the sheer hint of the out of doors drifted on the air, Bastian was returned to his room, the door sealed and the voice ringing loudly in his ears again. No explanation was ever given. It was because of this, that on this thirteenth day, he almost fought the tiny house elf wanting to help him groom and get ready to leave.
He was clean and his belongings had been placed in his pockets. Bastian’s personal robes had been returned to him, though it was clear that they had been dismantled and sewn back together. Bas wanted to burn them rather than put them on. But he had to have something to wear and with an alarming amount of uncertainty, he did not want to ask the whys for any question he had. Out of his room, down a long, silent corridor, where only his shoes echoed, he was led through the maze of locked doors to a lower level. How many times had he seen this all before?
The entire exit was anticlimactic. No words of warning? No threats or farewells? No stern looks? No brand? That was what surprised him the most. After everything, the Ministry had not upgraded his status to ST? They’d not desired to mar his skin with their charm, stating he was a criminal? Bastian added that to the list of things that baffled him and continued to make no sense. But he was exhausted and his brain hurt to think about anything of consequence other than it being curious to begin with. This time the scent of outdoors reached him, enough to seep into his lungs. He squinted and covered his eyes as the doors were opened and sunlight hit him for the first time in two weeks. It was painful but even before he could comment on it, a muggle telephone receiver was shoved into his hand. A portkey. His stomach rolled as his body pitched to and fro only to land in a heap at his destination. With his eyes still closed, he had no idea where he was, but the Ministry had done him one good turn.
His exit portkey was charmed to take him to the address inside Bastian’s journal. Hand scribbled across the top of the first page, it was the address of Simone’s school. Pansy’s.
Pansy heard the wards register that someone else was arriving. The wards wouldn’t have let anyone in who wasn’t supposed to be there, so she wasn’t too worried, however she grabbed her wand regardless. “Just stay here and eat your dinner,” Pansy told the five girls gathered around the table as she made her way towards the front door. One couldn’t be too careful nowadays. Opening the door, her heart nearly stopped as she spotted Bastian on the front lawn.
Clutching her wand tightly in her hand, she ran across the front lawn and threw her arms around Bastian.
“Bastian! Circe! Is it really you?” she asked, not wanting to let go of him for a moment.
He could make out trees at the edge of the garden and a house that looked vaguely familiar, but until he heard his name and felt Pansy’s soft body against his, Bastian wasn’t sure where he was. Of all the places, why the Ministry would send him here, exactly where he wanted to be, that was inconceivable. He held his arms around her, too close and terribly improper and there was no way he wanted to let go.
Two weeks. Two weeks he’d warred with his mind about what she was to him. How many times had his mind called her wife? Even when he knew that was wrong, the sentiment, the mere thought of it, felt comforting to him.
“Yes, it’s me. I believe.” Turning his head, he kissed her dark hair and buried his face into the crook of her neck. Home. But he knew that wasn’t right. And the mantra started deep in his mind again. He grew week and felt his knees start to buckle. “I need to sit down. Can we...”
Pansy held onto Bastian tightly. “Yes, of course. Come on, let’s get you inside,” Pansy said, her heart pounding in her chest as she glanced around them worriedly, hoping this wasn’t a trap. Keeping her arms tightly wrapped around Bastian, she led him towards the house, keeping a tight grip on her wand.
Distractedly, he knew he had his wand somewhere. Tucked deep within the pockets of his robes, not easily within reach. And then he remembered the robes and stopped, almost causing them to stumble on the way inside. “Burn these,” he muttered, trying to get out of the robes covering him, not consciously thinking what he might be wearing underneath.
“I don’t trust what might be on them now.” The truth was, Bas had very little trust about anything. But before he could get himself undressed, he heard voices. Little girl voices and his thoughts were again focused. Striding twice the length of Pansy’s steps, he hurried inside and found the girls around the table, four Thorndikes and his Simone. He offered them all a weak smile and opened his arms for his daughter. Only when he was crouched in front of her did Bastian look back at Pansy and whisper his gratitude again.
Pansy simply smiled at him as she cleared the table now that the girls were nearly done. It was easier to do it herself. When her house elf appeared, she was grateful for it.
“Flopsy, can you take Jonquil and Virginia Rose upstairs for their bath?” she asked as she worked on cleaning the table.
“Yes, Mistress,” the elf squeaked before escorting the two youngest girls upstairs.
“Morgan, Kennedy, why don’t you girls go read for a bit?” she suggested, thinking that Bastian and Simone needed a bit of time together.
With light, affectionate pats to the tops of four little girls heads, Bastian watched Pansy's daughters all file out of the room, pinching little Jonquil's side in a tickle. It was good to see them all again. It was good to be here. Giving his daughter his full attention, he smacked noisy kisses all around her face and then pushed her back to stare. Simone had grown. Not enough to notice by an untrained eye, but Bastian was sure of it. He hugged her close again before pressing his finger to her lips when her questions started. "I promise. In the morning. Every question you have, I will answer. Except the one about unicorns. Mr Bletchley will answer that question."
Sebastian did not want to let her go, but the emotions were too difficult. Pansy must surely hear the crack in his voice. Sending Simone off with one last kiss, Bastian stood and looked over at Pansy clearing the table. He was growing confused again. Collecting a couple of plates, he moved behind his hostess, his savior, and wrapped his arm around her stomach as his lips lightly teased the side of her throat. "I'm glad Simone has adapted to her sisters. I expected it to be hard for her, being a single child and then suddenly being one of five." Pausing, he chuckled and splayed his fingers over Pansy's abdomen. "One of six, I stand corrected."
Within an instant, his loving expression turned to something more realistic. He watched their reflections from the mirror on the sideboard but it seemed if this was all happening to someone else. His body stiffened and he drew a step back, pulling his hand away from her as if burned. Bastian shook his head and stared at Pansy from the corner of his eyes. His mind was working too fast. "We're not.. together," he whispered, as much to remind himself as to admit his mistake to her. "I'm sorry." Handing the plates over, Bastian put a chair between them. "I'm sorry. I'm obviously confused."
Pansy’s breath caught in her throat when he wrapped his arms around her and she felt his lips on her throat, fighting the urge to moan. She closed her eyes, for the moment not caring that he was being too forward.
Then Bastian spoke and Pansy froze, her hands gripping the countertop tightly and the sounds of girls in the bath drifting away. Pansy stood there, unmoving, barely processing what was happening as she fought the urge to sob. Bastian couldn’t be broken, she couldn’t lose him too.
“No, we’re not...” she whispered, pushing thoughts of pregnancy out of her hear as she hung her head and took a few deep breaths, trying to get a handle on her emotions. She had to be strong for Bastian.
“It’s alright. They.. they did things to you,” she said, fighting to keep her voice from shaking. “Why don’t we draw you a bath, get you out of those clothes..” Pansy suggested.
"We're not," he repeated, almost as if he was trying to make himself remember that fact. When he looked up, the confusion was dissipating from his eyes, replaced by longing. Her scent was trapped in his nostrils. A combination of the soap she used and something more. Bastian glanced toward the sound of the playful voices, his heart sinking that he couldn't call them all 'his', nor the child he'd envisioned them having. Had that been a dream? A grasp on some hope? Or a thought planted there by the powers that be? The last thing he wanted was to look at Pansy with suspicion.
"Right. Burn the robes," he reminded her. Pulling the sleeve back, the left sleeve, Bas turned it inside out and showed Pansy just how the stitching was slightly off. "I don't understand. I don't understand what they did but if you have anything else I could wear, I would be grateful. Maybe Nate has something at the shop?" Bastian had no idea the brand 072274-DUN-N-92 was still red and irritated on his arm.
Pansy swallowed hard at the sight of the brand burned into Bastian’s flesh. It wasn’t what she wanted to see and she fought the urge to kiss it better instantly.
“I’m sure I can find something,” Pansy said, rubbing her hand over Bastian’s back as she let him to the guest quarters on the entry level, Leading him into the bathroom as she started to fill up the tub. Pulling out bath salts for stress relief and muscle relaxation, she added them to the water, stirring them around.
“Do you need me to help you out of those?” she asked curiously, not sure how much self-control she had in her, because it seemed to waning with every passing moment.
“Thank you.” Sebastian followed Pansy, feeling like an invalid, needing all the care and attention she was giving to him. He leaned against the sink basin as he watched her fill the tub. Something he’d seen a dozen times or more when he’d stayed during the full moon. They made a good team, at least in the parental sense. But to have her take such care for him. It made him sag with emotion and relief.
Pansy moved to stand up, keeping watch on Bastian from the corner of her eye. Moving her hands to his shoulders, she took the robes in her hands. “Let’s get you out of these,” she said softly. She had to be strong, for Bastian. Later, she could break down, but right now she had to be strong and not let her hands tremble.
“You’re safe, Bastian. You’re safe,” she repeated, as much for her sake as his.
It would be easy to just give in and let her care for him but Bas reminded himself he wasn't sick. Despite the words echoing in his mind, he was sane and now safe and he could be the wizard he was before all this started. He hoped.
Covering Pansy's hands, he started on the buttons of his shirt as he pulled the laces and stepped out of his shoes. The space between them was too intimate and somewhere in his mind he knew there was a reason he wasn't taking her in his arms and claiming her as he desired. Bastian's moment of clarity was slipping again. Spiraling away from him.
The shirt, along with his robes, dropped silently to the tile floor as Bas cupped Pansy's cheeks and moved close enough that her breath fanned across his face. He knew she wasn't his but his memories still weren't right. His mouth brushed over hers, lightly at first and then with an intensity that was unchecked. "I don't care who's wife you are." He smirked, a facet of his personality, a darker side that had been so well hidden.
Reaching for the belt and catch to his trousers, he met Pansy's pale gaze. The tub was almost full. "Join me?"
“Not tonight,” Pansy said softly as she pulled back and gathered up his robes and shirt and held her hand out for his trousers. She’d burn them and then help him wash up, if he needed.
“You do care, Bastian, I know you do. You’re willing to wait,” she reminded him, her eyes fighting back tears as she wondered if it was safe to have him in the house with the girls.
Her words reached him, slowly but he swallowed hard and nodded. "I'm sorry. I'm making this worse. In my mind, I've.. we've.." Scrubbing his hand over his face, he paused long enough to turn the water off. This was painful to admit, how much his mind had slipped. Of all the simple things he'd imagined while he was alone. "I suppose I imagined what I needed to. To find comfort in. You, the girls." Bastian didn't need to go on. He was sure that Pansy understood enough of what he was saying that he didn't have to give the details of imagining her family as his.
They were back at impropriety and appearances and Bas had just made things worse. "I'm sorry, Pansy. I don't want to be here making this uncomfortable for you. I know I will say something or do something..." What he feared was saying or doing something she could never forgive. "Can you have Simone packed in the morning?" He had no idea where they would go. Home. Though, this felt too much like home already.
“Nonsense, Bastian. We’ll get through this,” Pansy reassured him, cupping his cheek in her palm. “It’s not your fault. Whatever happened, whatever they told you, it’s not your fault,” Pansy said.
“Now, come on, off with your trousers and into the bath,” she said, taking charge of the situation once again. It was one of those times that taking charge and controlling the situation seemed the only way to get through all of it. She didn’t know what had happened to Bastian, but his mental state had definitely been affected.
“It’s alright, Bastian. You did what you needed to do to survive. But you’re free from that place now. You’re home, so come on, into the tub so I can burn these clothes and find you something to wear. “
With her soft touch, Bas closed his eyes and rested his cheek in her hand. Pansy was an incredible witch. And he'd not even dared to tell her what they had told him about his family and his blood. The truth, apparently. Out of some dark recess of his mind, the gentleman returned. He was willing to agree to hand over his clothing, but he looked down and away, the subject indelicate. "You'll step out first." The words were spoken with a hint of question and a hint of command. Bastian wouldn't disrespect Pansy to undress in front of her further than he already had.
"Oh, and my wand. Somewhere in the robes." It was then, he noticed the mark on his arm. Either from finally something easing in his brain, returning him to himself, or from the pain of the newly healing wound. Staring for a long moment, he pressed his lips together and fought through all the emotions it invoked. How hard had he worked at evading his mother's desire to see him marked? And because of her, now he was. "Would it be possible to get a drink? The stronger the better?"
“I can stay or go,” Pansy said softly. “Whatever makes you more comfortable.”
Searching in the pockets of Bastian’s robes, she found his wand and set it on the bathroom sink counter. Going throught he rest of his pockets, she pulled out his journal as well, setting it on the counter. Swallowing hard, she sighed and bit her lip as she looked at Bastian longingly.
“I’ll be back with that drink,” she said, her voice a bit tight.
He wanted her to stay. But it wasn't proper. Unable to look at the expression on her face, Bastian turned away and stepped out of his trousers and boxers, picking them up and reaching them behind him for her to take. The whole scenario was degrading. Embarrassing. He was shamed and losing his mind and was far from impressing a witch he wanted to.
Testing the temperature of the water with his toe, he climbed into the tub and sank down until his shoulders were covered. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the edge of the tub, just staring at his arm. Bastian had no idea if Pansy was close enough to hear him or not. "I didn't even notice this until now. How could they put a burning hot brand to my arm and I don't even remember it happening?" Turning around, he hoped to find her there just as much as he hoped his near-panicked worries were still private.
Pansy was just outside the door when Bastian spoke - out of sight but not out of hearing. She couldn’t bring herself to respond to Bastian. Instead she just slid down the wall, silent sobs racking her body. What had happened to her friend, her …. ? She wasn’t sure if she could stand to lose another man she loved. She wasn’t sure if she loved Bastian, but she certainly had feelings for him.
After a few moments, she pulled herself together, placing Bastian’s clothes in the fireplace and setting them alight with an incendio before going to find some spare pajamas for Bastian to wear. Bringing them back down, she also brought back a bottle of scotch and two glasses. Setting the pajamas and fresh towels on the ledge, she poured the scotch and handed one glass to Bastian as she took the other. Taking a long sip, she sat down on a towel outside the tub, letting her free hand run over Bastian’s shoulder.
“We’ll get you better and back to normal, Bastian.. I promise..”
The liquor was good, soothing. But her touch was even more so. He turned, twisting around to face Pansy and lean against the tub and just slightly, to accept more of her touch. "I never saw another person there. Not once. I heard a voice in my room, telling me things. And the last week, every day a house elf came." Bas shook his head, remembering the long trips toward the exit, only to be turned around and returned to his room.
"I don't remember eating, or ever being hungry." Apparently there were many things he didn't remember. He glanced up, pulled from his thoughts. "Thank you, again. For Simone. I can't stop thinking about what might have happened to her if she'd not been here." The liquor coated the sides of his glass as he tilted it back again. "What does she call you?" It was curiosity that made him ask. Curious about a young girl, half of himself, that had never known a mother.
Pansy ran her fingers through Bastian’s hair, massaging Bastian’s scalp a bit as she did so. She was grateful for the bubbles in the tub which covered his lower half to preserve decency.
“I would have gone mad..” Pansy said softly, threading her fingers through Bastian’s hair some more. The repetitive motion was soothing for her, perhaps because she was used to doing it to her daughters. “I’m just glad that you’re out now and safe,” she repeated, brushing her lips against his forehead.
“Mrs. Thorndike or Ms. Pansy most of the time, same as most of the other children at the school,” Pansy explained. “Though she doesn’t use a name most of the time.”
Bastian hummed lightly at the feel of her hand in his hair, taking comfort from it, scooting closer. He wanted the attention, needed it after his long fortnight of solitude. But he felt guilty for it just the same. He was a grown man and she had other responsibilities to attend.
"I'm not sure I didn't." Go mad. "I hope the others fair better than I did." Blaise and Theodore. They were all strong wizards. Or they had been before this. "I am safe," he agreed. "Here."
He accepted Pansy's explanation and nodded. His worry was that Simone would adapt to calling Pansy mama, like the other four girls she'd lived with for the better part of the past month. There was no hope or regret with his question, just honest curiosity of human nature. "I hope she's behaved herself and not been any trouble." But at Simone's age, Bastian wouldn't count on it.
Pansy nodded.
“She’s been an angel. Worried about her father, but I’ve done my best to keep her distracted and occupied,” Pansy explained. “Dunk,” she said simply as she poured some shampoo into her hands so she could wash his hair for him.
If he closed his eyes and listened closely, Bastian could pick Simone’s voice out from the other four girls. Yet they all brought a smile to his face when he thought of them. And then his eyes drifted to their mother. It seemed terribly complicated at the moment but sleep might help that. He hoped.
Staring at Pansy after her order, Bastian paused a moment and then finally reached out and placed his cup away from him after emptying it quickly. The liquor burned in a good way. He closed his mouth and and held his breath as he leaned back and dipped into the hot water and bubbles. It would have been to easy to stay there, in the peaceful warm water, the sounds of the plumbing oddly echoing in his ears. But after a moment, he rose back up and turned slightly so Pansy could reach him. As an afterthought, he did manage to add, "You don't have to do that." He was glad she was though. Bas sighed softly when her hands were on him again. "Beatrice never touched like this. Her fingers were always too cold."
“You’ve just been through an incredible ordeal,” Pansy explained, massaging the shampoo into his hair tenderly. She had done this for Tommy and for all of the children upstairs. Perhaps she was treating Bastian like a child, but it was a safe way of interacting with Bastian.
“I’m not Beatrice. And I could never be a replacement for her,” Pansy said simply before pulling her hands away.
“Dunk,” she commanded again, leaning over to rinse the shampoo off her fingers. Drying her hands off on the towel, she refilled both their glasses halfway. They both needed the alcohol tonight, but Pansy didn’t want to do something she might regret.
Bas didn't hide his moan of contentment as her fingers tangled into his hair. The feeling was equal parts sensual and comforting.
"I know you're not her," he said too sharply. "You're better than she ever was." He couldn't imagine the mousy little witch, whose only success at finally bearing his child in fact had killed her. It was cruel to say, to even think, but Simone would grow up stronger without knowing her mother; not adapting to her ways. What was Pansy really saying? She couldn't be a replacement, or she didn't want to? For the span of a moment, Bas wished for the white, soulless room and the voice that drove all his other thoughts away. It was less confusing and less emotional and he barely had control over himself now to keep from making demands.
He did as she ordered and dunked again, rinsing the soap out. Bas scrubbed the extra water away from his face and accepted the glass. He needed food for the liquor he was drinking after everything that happened, but more importantly, he needed sleep. "Hand me a towel and turn around," he suggested just as his toe pulled the plug of the drain and the water started to sink slowly.
Pansy got fresh towels from the shelf and handed them to Bastian as she took her scotch and turned away, facing the door of the bathroom. “Do you want something to eat? There’s still some dinner leftover,” Pansy said, resisting the urge to turn around and sneak a glance at Bastian. Part of her wanted to just let go and give in to her emotions and urges. It would be so easy to give in. But she was stronger than that. They both were.
"Thank you," he managed, shaking out the towel as he stood up and started drying off. The bath had helped ease him. The liquor, the warm water and Pansy's presence. Stepping out onto the bathmat, he moved behind Pansy until his fingers circled her wrist and then slipped down to thread together with hers. "I will never be able to thank you enough for everything you've done for me." His chest, still warm from the bath nearly pressed against her back as he leaned close, too close, pressing the barest hint of a kiss below her ear. "You're going to have to remind me. More than once, likely, of what is real and what is not. Being here with you is confusing to me. I don't want to embarrass myself or drive you away. I do respect your mourning and the memory of your husband, Pansy, but my thoughts, while I was in that place, evolved well beyond that." Resting his free hand on her hip, he squeezed lightly and chanced a glance at her face when he reached around for the pajama bottoms.
Pansy’s breath caught in her throat and she swallowed hard. “It’s the least I can do,” Pansy said softly, her voice a bit hoarse. She wasn’t sure how long she could manage to resist Bastian, especially since she wanted to give in. It would be so easy. Pansy squeezed Bastian’s hand. “I.. Bastian..” she pulled away slightly and turned around so she was facing him and there was at least a bit of space between them. “I’ll admit I’ve thought of that, of a future together, but I’m not going to be like some people who just fall into bed because it’s convenient or without thinking of the consequences,” Pansy said simply, thinking of certain friends of hers. “I.. there’s possibly something between us, but I need...“
Pansy wasn’t sure what she needed. Her upbringing told her there wa s another three months of mourning before indulging any suitors, but Bastian was suitable. He was a widower with a daughter from a good family. And she wanted to just give in, fall against him and let him hold her. It had been so long. But she’d put her own needs aside for her children. “My daughters come first,” she whispered. It wasn’t much of an excuse, but it was something.
Bastian stood there, in his bare chest and the borrowed pajama bottoms as he accepted Pansy’s rejection. It wasn’t even that. It was a warning. One he promised her he’d heed. But there was one thing he wanted to make clear. “I wasn’t talking about bed.” His tone was stern. His eyes narrowed and hardened. “I may want you, the things I imagined to keep myself from going mental, yes, those were intimacies. I can predict how your body will react. Where to touch you to make you moan and cry out. Where to want you to touch me. But this is not about taking you to bed, Pansy and you insult me if you think that is the only thing that I would want from you.”
Nodding, he moved away and hung up the towel. He wasn’t so cruel as to mention to her that in his dreams, he’d heard Jonquil call him daddy. Bastian loved her girls as he did his own. But it was all forms of complicated beyond that. “I understand. They are everything.” Shrugging his arms into the sleeves of the shirt, his smile thinned. “I can have the guest room?” He wasn’t going to make a nuisance of himself. Pansy had made things clear and despite how he imagined them, his place was not here.
“I meant no insult,” Pansy said, her voice a bit hoarse. As Bastian spoke, her chest heaved, imagining what it would be like with Bastian. She'd certainly considered it in her fantasies. He was an appropriate choice and very good looking, especially when he was standing half naked in front of her.
"Yes, I was thinking the guest bedroom would be appropriate," Pansy said. After all, wasn't that what propriety was all about? What was appropriate? "I'll even break my 'no food in bed' rule if you're hungy," Pansy said with a smile.
Watching the rise and fall of her chest, Bastian moved closer, ducking his head enough they were close. Along the lines of the bodies, his fingers gathered hers again, holding Pansy by a light tether. He nuzzled her brow, brushing his lips over her temple. Being this close was difficult but it was a torture he could deal with. "Our thoughts and desires have moved beyond what is practical for the time. We can't practically step back when we're in such proximity of each other and neither of us will let us move forward." Though Bastian was likely closer to that than she was. His mental state only made things more challenging.
"Thank you, but I can wait until morning." He wasn't hungry, but also, he didn't want to have her run off again. Tugging lightly on her hand, Bastian met Pansy's pale eyes. "I'd like you to put a silencing charm on the room please. I don't.. I don't-" He really had no idea what he was trying to say. "I'd like not to wake the whole house if I have a problem."
“Of course,” Pansy said simply, squeezing Bastian’s hand. She licked her lips nervously. “I could stay with you for a bit, if you like,” Pansy suggested, biting her lip. “There will be enough time later to sort out anything else..”
"You would? Stay with me?" His gaze was hopeful. "I'd like that, but promise me. You won't forget about the charm?" Bastian knew he should do it himself but he wasn't ready yet to use his wand. It was too simple to pick his wand and journal up off the sink and hand it over to Pansy for safekeeping.
Invading her space, leaning forward so close that she blurred from his clear vision, Bastian reached around Pansy for the door knob, hoping the cool, dry air would put some sense into him. He shivered and considered buttoning the pajama shirt. "Give the girls a kiss for me? And remind Simone I'll answer her questions tomorrow."
“I will,” she said taking the journal and the wand. Kissing Bastian on the cheek might have been a bit bold, but she did it anyway. Following Bastian out into the hall, she gestured towards the guest room. “There should be fresh sheets on the bed and anything you need. I’ll be back as soon as I make sure all the girls are asleep.”
Heading upstairs, Pansy started with youngest to oldest, making sure all of the girls were in bed and on their way to dreamland, pausing to sing a few verses of a lullaby to the younger ones. Once she had tucked all of them in, Kennedy, Morgan and Simone in the same bed, she went to her rooms and changed out of her clothes into a nightgown and dressing gown, tying the silk belt firmly around her waist before washing her face and taking down her hair. Padding down the stairs in her slippers, she made her way to the guest bedroom, knocking on the door before opening it. “Settling in alright? “
Bastian could still feel the hint of Pansy's kiss on his cheek as he watched her climb the stairs. How did she not realise what she was doing? How she was luring him closer with each breath she took? He continued to stand there, at the bottom of the stairs, listening to her sing and tuck the girls in. He could picture it all in his mind and it was so hard to keep himself where he was not move to join her. It was not his place.
He swallowed down the emotion of that fact and turned toward his bedroom.
It was exactly as he remembered, before he'd left it barely three weeks ago. He considered going in search of a magazine or the Prophet but then thought better of it, knowing his mind wasn't ready for too much input yet. Calling 'enter' at the sound of the knock, all he could do was stare. Pansy was ethereal. Bastian had shucked off the shirt and climbed into bed, resting mostly against the headboard, uncertainty and insecurities weighing on him. But seeing Pansy, looking so elegant and beautiful, took his breath away. "Yes, thank you," he finally answered. "Everyone tucked in?" He wanted to beckon her closer. Bas wanted to pull back the comforter and invite her in but that was all too much. He wouldn't deal well with Pansy's rejection. "Don't let me sleep long. I'd like to have breakfast together."
Pansy moved towards the bed, choosing to sit atop the comforter as she settled next to Bastian. She wasn’t sure she could resist the temptation of both of them under the covers. So, this was bit safer, at least in her mind.
“I’ll make sure to wake you up in time for breakfast, she said as she ran her fingers through his hair. Casting a soundproofing charm on the room, she set her wand on the nightstand before squeezing Bastian’s hand. “Do I need to read you a story so you can fall asleep?”
Scooting down under the covers, Bastian adjusted the pillows and leaned his head back into the soft down. He adjusted the pillow next to him in subtle suggestion, hoping Pansy might relax and lay back. "I promise not to bite." Perhaps that wasn't the best thing to say after their tenseness in the bath.
"I'd like that," he nodded. "Read me a story or tell me one from your imagination?" Grinning lopsidedly, it was worth it to see what Pansy would come up with.
Pansy settled down a bit more, letting her fingers run through Bastian’s hair.
“MMm.. what kind of story to tell you?” she asked, thinking allowed as she sighed tiredly and let her fingers thread through Bastian’s hair. “Just glad to have you safe. Tomorrow we can figure out everything. Or Sunday. Tomorrow is Morgan’s party. She turned six yesterday. She and Kennedy started muggle school yesterday. It’ll be good for them I think. And Morgan went to muggle school for half a year in the States. And I couldn’t stop Kennedy from wanting to go. I didn’t sign up Simone because I wasn’t sure where you were going to live once all this was over. And I didn’t have muggle paperwork for her. But I’ve tried to keep her pretty busy yesterday and today at least. Having Morgan’s party at 1pm tomorrow at the Holyhead Harpies pitch. Haven’t told her that yet, but it seemed a safe enough spot, given everything that’s going on. Reckon she’ll be pleased since there will even be players around there to help out.” She frowned. “Not much of a story, I’m afraid, just my rambling..”
Bastian hummed in contentment at Pansy's gentle touch. He rolled over to his side and extended his arm across her midsection, looping one of his finger through the silk belt of her dressing gown. Her touch was soothing, comforting. It promised peace. "Simone nor I have a gift," he answered with a sigh. "I hope Morgan will forgive us until I can get things sorted out."
He didn't know what to say about the muggle school for Simone. His thoughts had evolved from just a few months ago when he would have instantly said no, but now, now things were different. Everything was different. "I might consider it, but I like her here with you. I'd have to see the school and figure out how muggle documents work." But if Simone's friends were going to muggle school, he knew it would be hard to talk her out of it. "I missed the start of Hogwarts," he stated absently, sadly, but knowing nothing of the turmoil surrounding the school or the Headmistress. "I'm sure Morgan will love her party. What did she say about her broom?" Somehow, he managed to chuckle. "You tell a very good story." And he yawned. "Catch me up some more."
“There are still enough children here during the day, but less, and most of them are younger. Cody’s going to school with Morgan and Kennedy, and I’m not sure what George is doing with Natalie,” she explained. “Morgan can wait for presents,” she said with a chuckle. “She’s obsessed with the broom - it was a struggle to tell her she couldn’t go flying before school. She fell asleep with the broom last night.”
Pansy bit her lip and sighed heavily. “Hogwarts is different. McGonagall is missing and they turned away purebloods from the Hogwarts express.”
Bastian could see it would be best to keep Simone with her friends and she could still go to Pansy's before and after school. It was just hard acknowledging what he was doing. What he was allowing. But Susan had taught him so much of their differences. Muggles weren't bad. His grandmother hadn't been bad, though he'd never known her. He still had to come to terms with that.
It was easy enough to see sweet Morgan cuddling her broom. "She has your fortitude," he compliment, always content to talk about her girls. But the next bit of news gained his full attention. "Missing?" Bas closed his eyes and worried for his Headmistress. "So they went ahead with the pureblood school?" Sickeningly, and sadly, Bastian felt a small measure of relief, that now, with muggle blood, he might have a chance to stay and teach at Hogwarts. That was something Pansy had a right to know, though it was an utter embarrassment for him to open up about it.
"I need to tell you something." Bas couldn't exactly meet her gaze. "I'm not pure. I saw proof while I was in rehabilitation. I've spent my entire life thinking one thing. How do I just change that over night?" And, he wondered if his mother knew. "I just felt it important to tell you." He was fairly certain that wouldn't matter to Pansy, but if it did, Bas wanted to deal with it now.
“I haven’t been following everything on McGonagall, but someone on the journals might know more - or at the party tomorrow if you feel up for attending,” Pansy explained. “Pureblood school? I haven’t heard about that.”
Pansy paused and ran her fingers through Bastian’s hair. “Blood doesn’t matter, Bas. Tommy wasn’t pure by my family’s standard. His mother was a muggleborn. By the new laws, the girls are halfbloods,” she explained. “I’m not going to say there’s no future for us simply because you’re not completely pureblooded. “
Bas hummed slightly in thought and then answered her. "Yes, the Ministry was building it. No purebloods or children of STs at Hogwarts. Apparently they did as threatened and took that decision away from the Headmistress. It was one of the reasons I was learning more about muggles. I was told I would be teaching at the new school if I wanted to continue on with my profession." Turning the arm that was draped across her middle, the brand ached but he didn't mention it. Bastian doubted they would let him teach now with this mark on his arm.
He moved closer. "I have no idea what I will do without my position." It was just another thing he'd have to deal with to put his life back together.
Capturing Pansy's hand as it sifted through his hair, he held her still and turned, kissing the inside of her wrist. The gesture was meant to be familiar and comforting but there was a heightened awareness to it. "I'm glad you don't see it as a negative against my character. Or at least if you do, thank you for not saying so until I'm better able to deal with it." Bastian didn't want to admit his weaknesses but he could hold few secrets from her. Yawning again, he felt his weariness take control. "This is nice," he murmured, fighting his eyes from closing. "It's nice to have some one to talk to. To hold." If there wasn't a blanket between them, Bastian's hold would have been much more possessive. It was likely for the best as is. His cheek rubbed against the silk of her dressing gown as he inched closer and closer to sleep.
“It is. A woman could get used to it,” she said softly. “It’s not a negative. Besides, blood has nothing to do with a good match,” she said as she stifled a yawn and closed her eyes, lacing her fingers with Bastian’s. “I’ll make sure to wake you for breakfast.”