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Marcus swallowed the amber liquid, feeling the familiar burn warm his throat. He was on his fourth glass and had no desire to stop soon. He lifted his finger to the Muggle bartender, who smiled sweetly at him. She had been giving him subtle hints the past few times he had been in, but he had no interest. Sure she was pretty, but she was pretty in the subtle homely way. He much preferred pure-blood beauty, bold and elegant.
She stopped and reached for the bottle of Tennessee Whiskey Marcus had grown accustomed to. Sure it wasn't the usual firewhisky, but it did the trick. She reached over the counter, making sure to flash him a decent amount of cleavage.
“This one's on the house, shug,” she said with her thick southern accent, giving him a wink, before filling his glass to the brim.
He flashed a smile her way, just giving her a hint he might be interested. He chuckled at the thought, his parents were probably turning in their graves at the idea. He quickly chugged the whiskey, not caring how bad it burned. He wanted to push the demons away, and right now this was all that helped.
“Whoa there, sweets, you’re gonna be sick,” she said to him.
He just ignored her and downed the whole glass, not stopping to even catch his breath. He finished it and slammed the cup down, signifying he was done. He sat on his barstool, in the middle of the rundown bar letting the alcohol course through his veins, finally blurring his vision. He finally felt some relief, some sense of happiness. He stood, swaying side to side, ready to go home and pass out, knowing a dreamless night awaited.
Marcus stepped out of the bar, causing the screen door to creak from the movement. He made his way down the sidewalk, bumping into the brick as he went. When he finally reached the crossing and started to make his way across, he heard what sounded like a high pitched bird screech and felt the worst pain in his life. He felt his leg shatter beneath him before he was lifted in the air and thrown. The last thing he saw was the starry night sky, and he couldn't help but notice how beautiful and peaceful it looked before it turned to darkness around him.
oOo
He woke with a jump, but he could barely move. He felt something in his throat, but couldn't speak. He started gasping and spitting trying to claw at his neck.
“SOMEONE GET IN HERE!” he heard a beautiful voice yell. “It's okay, Flint, shhh, don't worry. The doctors are coming.”
He felt warm, soft hands brush his face, and he tried to calm himself. First, he steadied his breathing, so his throat didn't feel so restricted. The next minutes felt like hours as the tubes were pulled from his mouth and the doctors ran tests. However, the beautiful girl never left his side. He realised he knew her from somewhere, but couldn't place it. He felt groggy, disoriented, and sick from the meds.
“Okay, Mr. Flint, you got off lucky,” the doctor said staring at him over his chart while he laid in his bed. “Your leg was broken pretty bad, you also broke a few ribs and had swelling on your brain. We’ve fixed everything, and you should have no lasting effects. You will need to have therapy for your leg, but seeing as you’re young and fit, it shouldn't take long for you to get back to normal. We're going to keep you overnight for observations, but you should be able to leave tomorrow.”
The doctor walked out leaving Marcus alone with the mysterious woman.
“Would you like something to drink?” she asked him, looking at him with such sadness in her eyes.
“Yes, please,” he croaked, mouth feeling full of cotton.
She stood and reached for the container sitting beside his bed, and filled a glass, adding a straw. She reached over and held the straw in place allowing him to drink. He guzzled it down, mouth finally getting some relief.
“Who are you?” he asked looking at the girl, confused at her kindness.
“You really don't remember me? We haven't been out of school that long, Flint,” she replied looking hurt.
He took in her features again, finally getting a good look. That's when he noticed her square jawline and her familiar nose.
“Pansy?” he whispered.
“Of course. I'm surprised it took you that long.”
“You've changed,” he said, trying to pry his eyes away.
“I have. It's been ten years, Flint, I've grown,” she laughed.
“So you've been here all this time?” he asked, yawning.
“I have. And I'm not leaving your side. I… well…” she struggled to find the right words. "I saw you get hit. I had just come out of the diner across the street. Flint, I thought you were gone and had just seen you die.” she struggled with the words.
He noticed a tear form and roll down her cheek. She wiped it quickly, trying to hide her emotions.
“You get some sleep, I'll be here when you wake up.”
Flint wanted to stay awake and enjoy more time with Pansy, but his eyes betrayed him and started falling. She took his hand softly, and he fell into another dreamless, peaceful sleep.
oOo
He woke the next day, excited to see her again. In a short amount of time, she gave him light and happiness, two things he hasn't felt in he couldn't remember how long. When he woke she was laying on the bed beside him, black hair curling around her face. He brushed some away from her eyes, and she started moving, fluttering her eyes open. He quickly closed his, trying to fake sleep. She easily lifted herself from the bed and stretched, yawning quietly.
“Morning, sleepy head,” he joked.
“Well good morning,” she answered brightly, smiling. “Bet you'll be glad to get out of here today.”
They heard a knock at the door, and a nurse stepped in.
“Just here to check your vitals, dear, and you should be good to go.”
The nurse walked over to the beeping machine and scribbled some notes down.
“Well, Mr. Flint, everything looks good. Here is a prescription for the medicine you'll need, the doctor says to stay off your leg as much as possible,” she hands him the note. “You got very lucky sir, please take care of yourself,” she says before stepping out and closing the door behind him.
“Um, Pansy, what's a prescription,” he asks with a puzzled look on his face.
“Well, I think it's something Muggles give to help with a problem someone is having.”
Flint slowly rises, careful not to put any weight on the leg covered by a cast, which he still wasn't sure what it does. Muggles and their contraptions.
“Here let me help,” Pansy said standing to give Flint her arm for support. He pulled up the pants she handed him, which was just big enough to slide over the cast. “Once you get home, we'll get you taken care of, and that blasted thing off okay.”
“Your… You are coming home with me?”
“Well, I don't have to. But I just thought you may need some help at first.”
“I uh, Pansy, I don't deserve your help.”
Pansy is silent, not wanting to upset him. She can see the pain and hurt in his eyes and knows he is lost.
“Sure you do, Flint,” she says at last. “You are human after all. You shouldn't have to suffer alone.”
“Sweetheart, I've always been alone.”
At last, he gets dressed and sat in his wheelchair contraption the nurse brought in as they were getting ready to leave. Pansy pushes him into the sunlight, and he squints his eyes enjoying the warmth he hasn't felt in so long. He's been spiraling for a while, working all day and drinking all night. The war affected him so much, and the only ones that ever got any recognition were the Golden Trio. He had helped fight against the Death Eaters that penetrated the school and watched some of the people he thought were best friends fight on the wrong side. He was broken, sad, and alone.
“Okay, I'll apparate us to your place, you don't need to add any stress to yourself,” Pansy says when they round the corner past the hospital. “Plus you're not at the top of your game, I don't wanna get splinched.”
They turn down an empty alleyway and with a pop they are gone.
They reappear in front of a small apartment building.
“I'm in 203,” Flint says pushing the wheelchair up the sidewalk and opening the door for her.
She steps in the entryway with him following behind. He takes a left, and she follows him down the dimly lit hall. He reaches his door and takes his keys from his pocket. They hear a click and enter.
They step into a small living area, with nothing but a couch and TV, with a kitchen attached. Off to the right is a door leading to his room and bathroom.
“Excuse the bareness, I'm not here very much.”
“Oh, it's fine. Are you hungry?” Pansy asks heading to the kitchen to dig through the cabinets.
“I am, but there's not much in there,” he replies, embarrassed.
“Well guess I'll have to go do some shopping. Here sit on the couch, and I'll get you all set up.”
She walks to him and helps him stand and move to the couch, which sinks when he sits. Once seated, she steps into the kitchen and makes him a glass of water.
“I won't be long. Give me thirty minutes tops. Don't try to do anything crazy.”
She pats his shoulder and steps out, leaving him alone.
Flint sits in silence, and that's when his demons come. He starts remembering the pain and hurt. The words of his parents running through his mind.
“You betrayed us! You fought against the Dark Lord! That's it, Marcus. You are no longer welcome here.” his dad yells. “Get out.”
Flint turns and passes his mother who has silent tears falling down her face. She knows this isn't right but wouldn't dare go against her husband.
That's the last he saw of them both. Not even a few months later they were killed. The circumstances were suspicious, but no one came forward, so the case went cold. He felt the darkness spreading and reached down into the couch cushions, looking for the bottle of whiskey he had bought on his way home from the Muggle bar one night. Strange of him to enjoy something so Muggle. He finally felt the smooth glass and retrieved it. Cracking the cap he takes a sip, but then his sip turns into gulps, and before he knew it he had downed half the bottle.
The room was getting hazy, and his head spinning. He figured he would go lie down and stood. Having forgotten about his leg, he crashed to the floor. Crying out, he bit his lip to help the pain. He tried scooting back to the couch, but just couldn't. He was drunk and alone which was nothing unusual for him. He laid his head back, enjoying keeping his demons at bay. He dozed off sometime and awoke to Pansy gently nudging him awake.
“Flint, oh Merlin are you okay?”
He feels her hands trying to pick him up, he tried to help but is unable.
“I'm gonna use my wand and help get you on your bed,” he hears. “Wingardium Leviosa.”
He feels light and can feel himself being moved from the floor to the bed. Pansy gently lays him down and brings the covers up around him.
“Ohh goodness, I'm so sorry,” he can hear her rummaging through her bag. “Take a sip of this, you'll feel better.”
He feels the bottle brush his lips and takes a sip. Instantly he starts feeling better, the room becoming more clear.
“It's a sober up potion. Flint, what were you thinking?”
“That I want to chase the demons away,” he said, trying to hide his face from shame.
“I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have left you alone,” Pansy replies eyes filling with tears.
“Pansy, I'm really tired, but will you stay with me in here? I don't want to be alone,” Flint mumbles on the edge of sleep.
“Of course,” she answers. She lays beside him and snuggles close. He breathes in her scent, which smells like amber with a touch of honey. He drifts off to sleep, Pansy helping keep the demons at bay.
oOo
He woke later, and Pansy was fast asleep at his side. He didn't move, he just laid there enjoying feeling her next to him. He's not sure how long he just held her, but when she started to stir, he realised he didn't want the moment to end.
“Well hello,” he whispers when her eyes open.
He stares into her eyes, green like cat eyes with touches of chocolate throughout. She smiles sweetly at him and plants a kiss on his lips. He's hesitant at first but returns the kiss. After a few seconds, but what feels like ages, he breaks the kiss.
“Can we talk?” he asks her.
“Sure,” she says rising to sit cross-legged.
He sits up putting his back on the headboard for support.
“So as you’re very much aware I have a drinking problem. I'm not proud of it, but it helps. I just want you to know I appreciate all you've done for me. Thank you. ”
“Marcus, you don't have to say thank you. When I saw what happened to you, I knew I had to step in. I love you. I did in school but was just too scared to admit it. When I saw you get hit, my heart broke. I thought I had lost you forever. Then when I walked in and seen you on the floor, well, I thought I had lost you again.”
He can see tears falling fast down her beautiful but sad face and reaches to wipe them away.
“I'm so sorry, Pansy. I had no idea,”
He stretches his arms out and pulls her close, letting her head rest on his chest.
“I've been fighting these demons for far too long. You brought me back, from being too far gone. And I'll be damn if I'm going to lose you. Pansy, do you wanna stay with me?”
“Of course. I'll help you stay and fight your demons as long as you'll have me.”
oOo
Six months later
Flint let out a deep breath. He was feeling himself slipping again. It had been six months since the accident, but his leg still wanted to give him a fit. He had just endured another grueling therapy session, choosing to do it the Muggle way. It's what he deserved.
He stepped out of the office and into the night, heading straight for the bar. He knew he shouldn't go back, it's been six months but dammit he was in pain, and ready to feel numb.
Flint finally made it to the rundown shack but stopped. What was he doing? He had Pansy at home. And boy was she a blessing. She had saved him and Merlin's beard he wasn't going to let things come between them. He quickly turned away and started sprinting. He forgot about his leg and all the pain. He was ready to get home to her because she was damn sure better than any alcohol he ever tasted.