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"I always thought that you would marry Draco, I would marry Theo, and then we will live our lives privately together. It was almost perfect," Daphne whispered into the skin between Pansy’s bare breasts, her manicured nails gently scraping at her hip. Pansy sighed tiredly, "I wished that too, Daph. But what can we do?" Their wands were gone, waiting to be tied to their husbands’. They had nothing to protect themselves with or even fight. "Draco got himself killed over Potter, and Theo got insane after what Bellatrix did to him."
Daphne sniffed, cuddling even closer to her. Pansy ran her hand through that perfect silky hair, covering them both like a water reflecting moonlight.
Something hot and burning rose in her belly, simmering rage that some man will see her love like that tomorrow night, when they claim them as their obedient little wives, ready to be bred. Someone will touch Daphne, use her body in the most atrocious ways. Pansy felt panic rushing through her blood like a poison without a cure.
"Sometimes," Daphne’s voice broke through the downward spiral, "when I sleep, I feel like flying. So powerful and free. I can see the forests and feel the wind in my feathers. I can hunt down prey, take care of myself… I am so tired of being weak."
Pansy rolled her over, pinning her hands over her head, "You are not weak, love. You endured so much. We will survive this, too. I promise."
Daphne's eyes filled with tears, but she smiled at her nevertheless, "Make love to me like it's the last time, please. I need something to remember."
Pansy kissed her tenderly, "This is not the last time, Daph. We will make it work." She so hoped her voice was more convincing than what she felt like. Despite her murmured assurances, Pansy devoured Daphne like it was their last night on earth.
–––
They stood lined up, all dolled up, wearing white. Most of them resigned, some crying. Holding onto each other with trembling hands, there stood twenty brides.
The whole congregation of Death Eaters showed up, so sure of their position, of their victory, with the Order hiding and barely doing anything. They already thought the war was won for good. The new regime arose, and with that, a noble task for all those young girls – take their important husbands and let them impregnate them, obey their commands. If not eagerly, then at least silently.
Voldemort appeared, but Pansy didn’t hear a word of his speech; her sole focus was Daphne’s shaky hand in hers, Milicent’s in the other.
She felt ash on her tongue, and her throat burned. He kept her cold mask on, because that was the last protection wall she had – passive and dissociating, just how her mother thought her to approach her wedding night.
Pansy squirmed ever so slightly, her spine tight, muscles spasming. She had to control herself. As the list of matches was read, but her sight went hazy and red. She blinked it away, and then they announced it. Crabbe – the senior. Fuck.
His eyes were sunken from grief from losing his only son. Red-rimmed, maniacal. "Vince always told me what a bitch you were to him," he snarled at her, "I’ll make sure you learn your lesson."
Pansy ground her teeth, finding in shock they didn’t fit like they used to. Her fangs… were longer. Hatred simmered in her belly, hot and consuming, and she took a shaky breath that Crabbe read as her fear.
By her side, Daphne loudly sobbed and pressed to her side, which was a mistake.
The scene was spotted, and Voldemort himself moved towards them, floating more than walking, with a menacing grin on his face.
"What do we have here?" he hissed, "A little bird, why are you crying? I hope that’s excitement for your upcoming nuptials. Now, now, no need to cling to your friend like that anymore. Rosier is so eager to take you, little bird."
A bile rose in Pansy’s throat. So wrapped up in her own miserable fate, she didn’t even hear Daphne’s match.
"Come, come, little bird," Voldemort taunted her, entirely ignoring Pansy’s existence.
Pansy’s fingers twitched, a searing pain zapping through her bones. They were going to destroy them both, them all.
Daphne was shaking her head frantically as they pried her from Pansy’s hug, whispering panicked pleas. "Pansy… Pansy, please, Pansy. No, no… no, I am not ready, please let me go. Please."
Pansy's body began to shiver violently. Other girls stepped aside, and three men were holding her suddenly, pawing and shouting. But she was like petrified, frozen in time, consumed by fire. Her heartbeat was so fast and hard that it was the only thing she heard.
Daph's mouth was moving, but there were no words, just thrumming of her boiling blood.
A screech burst through the barrier. Daphne arched and screamed, the two Death Eaters holding her suddenly flying to the sides. In a flourish of feathers and claws, Daphne changed right in front of their eyes. A harpy. Her body covered in feathers, her hands clawed and sharp as knives, wings unfurling from her spine.
Spells zapped through the air, but Daphne soared to the high ceiling, the screech she let out inhuman, petrifying.
A power flood Pansy's system at the sight. A hint of hope and freedom.
Daphne was terrifying and more beautiful than ever. One word filled her mind – mate.
"Kill it!" Voldemort ordered, sneering and shuffling aside, like the coward he always was.
Curses flew around, one of them hitting Daphne's wing. She faltered in the air, and that was it.
"NO!" Pansy screamed, and then she roared. Her body convulsed and grew, bones snapping and rearranging, her power growing beyond imagination.
The room became small and crowded, and as she fell to all fours, she didn't have hands anymore. Her claws were obsidian black, the scales of her forelegs iridescent, shifting from blue to green to purple as she moved. She stared for a second, her sight suddenly sharper.
She felt the wings breaking through the glass and tail with Morningstar bashing down the double doors. She roared, the ash and fire on her tongue welcomed. A sign of her change.
"That one's a beast, too!" Someone shouted.
Pansy turned her head sharply, finding Flint pointing a finger at her like an idiot her was. She roared in his face until he fainted. She stomped her foreleg, piercing him with one of her claws.
"Stop!" Voldemort's voice, enhanced by Sonorous, boomed in the hall.
The spells stopped. Shouting too.
Pansy glanced at Daphne, who hovered in the air, eyes sharp and focused on her.
"Bow to me, creature," Voldemort demanded, "And you will be spared. Of your task as a bride and from punishment for disobeying. Serve me as you are, and I will make you my general."
Pansy's massive head whipped to him, measuring him with one golden eye.
Two things happened at once.
The Order burst through the wards just as Pansy rumbled, "I bow to none."
The fire she breathed consumed Voldemort, eviscerating him on the spot. He didn't even manage to scream.
Chaos ensued.
Pansy was filled with rage and bloodlust, and she finally had the means to end them all. She was merciless.
The manor fell apart as Pansy destroyed walls, ground Death Eaters to the ground, set those monsters on fire. She tried to avoid the brides, but her body was so big and new, and she wasn't sure if she would hurt someone. But that didn't matter. Only revenge did.
"Don't attack the dragon!" Someone shouted, "It's only attacking them!"
At least the Order was smart enough.
They fought viciously.
And then, it was over.
The rage in her blood subsided, and Pansy fell suddenly very, very tired.
Her body shrank into itself, and she protected herself with wings until they retracted back to her body.
Daphne flew to her, and they fell into each other's arms, shaking and sobbing.
"It's over," Daphne whispered shakily.
"Yes," Pansy only managed, trying to find her bearings. Her brain didn't catch up yet.
She might have returned to her human form, but her eyes remained golden, the patterns on her skin resembling her scales. But her eyes were fixed on the remaining people in the ruins of the former ballroom.
"Get her, Charlie! You know how to tame such a beast!" A redhead shouted.
Another redhead, flipped him off. "Fuck off, that ain’t no dragon."
Pansy's voice was still otherworldly, rumbling and dangerous, filling the air for miles and miles when she spoke. "Your puny magic cannot contain me. Step aside or you burn just as your enemy."
She would protect what belonged to her – Daphne and freedom.
The cowered for a moment, but when Pansy didn't move, they continued their bickering.
"I know what I saw." The first redhead gestured wildly until another one, an older one, pushed him to the back.
The Order lined up in front of Pansy and Daphne, puzzled expressions, fear and disbelief written in their faces.
"Dragons don’t speak. Or change to human form." Someone said. Was that Granger? That swot would survive anything.
"What is it, then?! Animagus?"
Pansy remembered that one – Seamus? Setting everything on fire seemed more amusing to her now, seeing the damage she caused to the Malfoy manor.
"Nah. Dragon shifter. I thought they were extinct." The dragon tamer said, eyeing Pansy carefully. With respect.
She liked that one.
Granger spoke like a know-it-all she was, "Dragons always protect what’s theirs – herds and mates. It doesn’t matter if shifters or animals. It was probably the stress of them being married off against their wills that woke the dormant magic in her blood."
A tall, black man walked forward. Shacklebot. "We should contain her, anyway. Both of them. They can hardly control it." He was resolute and calm. A nuisance.
"Step away!" Pansy’s voice boomed, her nails elongating to claws, as she stood. She did not have control over her form, the anger was consuming her slowly again.
They were insane if they thought she would come willingly.
Daphne, small and shaky at her feet, sobbed, "We just won you a war. We only want to be free." Such contradiction with her Harpy form.
"We cannot possibly let such beasts–" Shacklebot opened his mouth, but closed it again.
Around Pansy, emerging from behind half-destroyed pews, stood more girls – more brides – in white. They fearlessly circled around the two young women.
Millicent stood up front, shaky but determined as she stared into the wizard's eyes, "You are talking about my friends, Mister Shacklebot. You speak foul about girls who saved me from being raped and trapped in an unwanted marriage. She helped us, unlike you – ready to let them do that or blow us all up, sacrifice our lives. Let them go. We let others drag us along like helpless dolls way too long. We have nothing more to lose than ourselves. Are you sure you want to risk it?"
Everyone saw the determination. The transformation Pansy and Daphne went through in front of everyone was the spark of hope these girls, raised to be used, needed to set themselves free. They were not letting any of them be captured again, at any cost.
Longbottom placed his large hand on Shaklebot's shoulder, "I don’t want to lose more innocent lives, Kingsley. Pansy and Daphne did something magnificent and brave; their devotion saved not only them but us, too."
Collective murmurs of agreement gave Pansy hope. None of the Order members seemed too eager to stand up to her. In the horrors of war, her true nature wasn’t what worried them. They were just glad it was over.
She looked at Shacklebot, daring him to test her. Her and the girls. They were left to their own devices amongst monsters. How dare he make any demands, anyway?
Shacklebot sighed heavily and nodded.
Freedom.