Royals

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3

The light streamed in from the windows, the birds chirped happily, disturbing Ron from his dream world. Not yet fully awake he felt a weight pushing down on his hand. His eyes slowly fluttered open and he saw the Parkinson girl asleep crouched by the sofa, her hand over his.

"Stupid girl," he muttered as he pried her hand off his. As he got up, the cold draft hit his bare feet like icicles, he carefully lifted her and placed her where he just was.

After getting dressed, he decided to fix up the guest bedroom. He quickly spelled scrougify around the room and transfigured a bed and dresser. If she wanted anything else then tough. After he was done he decided to head out to get some breakfast.

Soon after he had left, Pansy had awoken, the warmth of his hand replaced by the cold air. Sitting up she rubbed her eyes to get rid of her sleepiness. As she looked around the room, she was surrounded with sheer silence. She hated to be alone. It gave her time to recall and recollect torturous moments. Her eyes pricked with tears begging to be spilt. Truth be told, she didn't want to cry. She didn't want Ron to find her like this. It would give him another reason to hate her and Pansy didn't want that. All she wanted was to show him that she could be strong and brave too. However, as much as she tried to wipe her tears and contain her sobs, the past had overpowered and taken control of her once again.

* * *

Ron entered the flat, only to be welcomed with Parkinson on the floor by the foot of the sofa where he had found her this morning, rocking back and forth. So lost in herself she did not notice him placing the bags down on the counter joining the kitchen and living room.

"Parkinson," he said as he squatted beside her. Getting no response he brought up his fingers to her face and snapped them."Parkinson," he repeated.

Slowly she turned towards him, her face red and nose dripping. How charming. He grabbed a tissue from the box on the table in front of them and handed it to her, "Wipe your face, I brought breakfast."

Taking the tissue from him, she watched his back retreat towards the counter. She was glad he didn't question her, she wouldn't have known what to say. That she was scared. Scared to be left alone because she was weak.

She slowly joined him on the counter, watching him efficiently work.

"This is a muggle neighbourhood so the food is, well muggle," his voice cutting through the silence.

He pushed the plate to her, "This is French toast, though i'm pretty sure we get it in the wizarding world too."

Pansy signed to him as if to ask where his food was, repeatedly pointing to the plate and to him. 

"Oh, i'm not hungry," he finally replied.

She picked up the knife and fork, placed by the plate and attempted to cut a piece. However her hands were shaking so hard that even after many attempts she was unable to. Noticing her trembling hands, Ron lightly held her wrist and took the cutlery from her. He then proceeded to cut small squares and handed her the fork.

As the light fluffy toast touched her tongue, her taste buds erupted in glee. She had never tasted anything like it. Hurriedly she took another bite, enjoying the sweet sensation in her mouth. However, she had not been used to eating such heavy portions that her stomach began to churn and she felt nauseous. The bile begin to crawl up her throat as she rushed to the bathroom.

Gripping onto the toilet bowl Pansy emptied her stomach feeling cold hands at the nape of her neck holding her hair back. Ron lightly patted her back, and handed her a small cup.