Title: Eternally Grateful
Author: scarletladyy
Pairing: Dolohov/Pansy
Word Count: 6,037
Rating: R
Warnings: Stockholm Syndrome, age difference, attempted rape, mentions of violence and torture, character death (not Pansy or Dolohov)
Summary: For her parent's failure, Pansy is kidnapped and held by Dolohov and Macnair, but it's not long before things take an even more twisted turn, and they have to do what is needed to survive.
Author's Notes: Written for Prompt #43 for deatheaterfest 2011. Many thanks to my beta d_andru.

A monotonous buzzing sound was the only thing Pansy could hear when she awoke, one hand immediately going to her head to try and quell the excruciating pain that was emanating from it. She touched something sticky and withdrew her hand, but in the darkness, she couldn't see what it was. She brought it up close to her face, attempting to smell it, and then taking a little taste.

"Ugh!" Pansy cried out hoarsely, her throat sore, as she realised the stickiness was dried blood. She brought herself up into a sitting position and leant against what she assumed was a wall, albeit a very uncomfortable brick wall. Her wand was no longer on her person, or it would have been sticking into her back, and she sighed inwardly. If it had been daylight, or had there been any light in the room at all, Pansy would have wandered around and tried everything to get out. She didn't like the darkness. She'd been afraid of the dark since she was a little girl, so she brought her knees up and leant her chin on them, waiting.

What she was waiting for, she didn't know, but light at the very least. Pansy half thought this was one of Draco's sick jokes, trying to get her back for shoving him in the swimming pool a couple of days ago, but then she reminded herself he wasn't that cruel, not to her, anyway.

Wherever she was, it wasn't somewhere she recognised, and she figured it would be better to keep quiet and hope for the best because she didn't want to piss anyone off by causing a scene. Not that there was anyone there to witness one, but for all she knew, there could be somebody outside the door, or she could be being watched.

With her head leant back against the wall, Pansy felt her aching muscles relax, and she began to close her eyes in exhaustion. She drifted in and out of sleep for god knows how long, until she was awoken properly by a very loud bang.

"Awake then, are you?"

Pansy looked up at the source of the voice; a Death Eater she'd only seen once or twice when she'd visited Malfoy Manor. He brought with him a lantern, giving her the ability to see the room. It looked as though it was a room in a normal house; it was just in the middle of being decorated. Pansy was thankful that, given who her captor had turned out to be, she wasn't in some sort of dank dungeon. "Do I look awake?" The man smirked. "Yes, I'm awake."

"Oh, good." He turned around into the corridor before yelling loudly, "Macnair! Get your arse down here!"

Macnair... Pansy knew that name. He was the executioner. Upon remembering that, Pansy gulped, but didn't show any other signs of being afraid. She kept her eyes firmly fixed on the man in front of her, glaring at him as he simply looked bemused by her.

"What do you want, Dolohov?" said Macnair testily, his boots on the wood floor outside alerting her to his presence.

The man she now knew as Dolohov indicated towards her with his head. "Bitch is awake."

"Ahh," Macnair entered the room, a large grin on his face. "Finally."

"What do you want with me?" said Pansy, keeping her glare firmly fixed in place. "I'm Pansy Parkinson. I'm a Pureblood!"

Dolohov smirked. "We know exactly who you are, love. That's why you're here."

But things like this aren't supposed to happen to people like me! I'm on the winning side!

"I don't... I don't understand." Pansy's confident glare was deteriorating rapidly, as she racked her brains for any reason they could possibly have for kidnapping her.

"Let me have the pleasure of filling you in, my dear." Macnair gave her a toothy grin, sending shudders down Pansy's spine. "Your parents backed out of a deal they had with our Lord. It turns out they 'don't have the stomach' to become one of us. And, of course, we couldn't just let that pass."

"My parents? Are they all right?"

"We'll let you know after they've been released from St Mungo's," Dolohov chimed in.

"Still, what has this got to do with me? It sounds as if they've already been punished."

Macnair grinned at her again. "Since we can't have them, our Lord says we can have you instead."

"You can't be serious," said Pansy, standing up, which took more effort than she thought it would. Finding her bearings, she walked forwards slowly, until she was only a few inches in front of Macnair and Dolohov.

"Woah there, missy," said Dolohov, pushing her out of his reach. "Where do you think you're going?"

Pansy narrowed her eyes at Dolohov, walking towards him again. "Anywhere but here," she spat, attempting to push past them, but this time she was thrown to the ground by a heavy handed Macnair.

"I don't think so, love," Macnair sneered. "Once we're done with you, you're going to be the perfect little Death Eater. Perhaps one day you'll even outrank your boyfriend."

Dolohov snorted. "Outranking Malfoy won't be hard for her."

The news that Draco was a Death Eater came as no surprise to Pansy, since she'd just about guessed as much for the last few years anyway. What she wasn't sure of was how he was taking the news about her and her parents. Perhaps there wasn't anything he could do even if he did know. Still, he could come and see her, couldn't he? Pansy wanted to hold onto the hope that one day, he would pop in, but then she laughed out loud at the thought; Draco wouldn't risk his own neck for her, for anyone.

"Looks like she finds the thought of Malfoy being competent as amusing as we do," said Macnair, turning into the corridor. He nodded curtly at Dolohov and then smirked at her before disappearing out of sight, his footsteps fading as he walked away.

Dolohov stared at her intently, letting a few moments of silence pass between them before he spoke. "Get some rest tonight; you'll need it for tomorrow."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Pansy spat, pushing herself up onto her hands and then into a standing position, but by the time she was steady, Dolohov had shut the door behind him and left her alone in the dark again, which meant Pansy had to find her way to the nearest wall in total blackness.

*

When Pansy awoke, on her own terms this time, the room was filled with the light from outside. She noted two small, thin windows at the very top of the room providing the daylight into her room, and she noted, properly this time, that it wasn't that bad.

Pansy stretched her arms and legs, and then stood up with the intention of looking properly around the room. The wall opposite the door had a little bit of wallpaper hanging off it, from what it used to be decorated in she assumed, but other than that, all the walls were just their original brick. There was a table in the corner with a bucket underneath it, and Pansy hoped she wouldn't be staying in this room much longer.

To both her relief and anticipation, she heard footsteps in the corridor once more, and turned around, seeing it was Dolohov. For a Death Eater, he was quite a handsome one, with sharp features and dark hair that put him into the 'tall, dark and handsome' category she'd always liked, not to mention the facial hair he was sporting. Then an idea struck her; perhaps she could sweet talk him, flirt with him to let her get away? It was worth a try, particuarly as he was probably gagging for it; she doubted he got much sex at his age.

Pansy decided it was worth a go at least, and smiled sweetly as he shut the door behind him. "Why, hello there."

Dolohov narrowed his eyes at her, frowning. "What's got into you? You looked ready to tear our eyes out yesterday."

"Oh, I don't know." Pansy shrugged and brought a finger up to play with her hair. "I guess I just hadn't got a proper look at you. That Macnair's a right ugly git, but you.... You're different, see. You could be quite handsome if only you trimmed your beard a little bit.

Dolohov raised his eyebrows in surprise, folding his arms at the same time. The stance he took was trying to show confidence, but his confusion was showing through far too much. "Are you serious?"

"Deadly." Pansy winked at him and walked forward, placing a finger on his robes and pretending to free them of dust. He batted her finger away and she pouted. "Don't be like that. I'm only trying to make you presentable."

"Look, I just came to --" Dolohov started, but Pansy placed another finger over his lips.

"Hush now," she said quietly. "Don't spoil this with words. Can't you feel it? The chemistry? I know I certainly can." She began to circle him, her hands travelling across the back of his robes. She leant into his ear and whispered, "You know, if we were in another time, another place, I wouldn't think twice about shagging you.

"In fact," she said suggestively, "I could even make an exception, if you were to, say, let me go free." When he began to protest, she shushed him again. "Nobody would ever have to know you did it on purpose. I could hit you over the head, give you concussion... pretend I bested you."

Dolohov snorted. "You really think I want everyone to believe that you bested me? I don't think so, girl."

"Oh, come now," Pansy said softly, stroking his cheek. "I could make you feel so good."

"Don't take me for a fool, Parkinson," Dolohov said sharply, batting her hands away from his face. She focused them instead on his groin, feeling his hard-on through his robes; he was as stiff as a board. "Get off me, witch!" He flung Pansy backwards and she giggled loudly, watching him storm out of the room in anger. The door banged loudly behind him, and Pansy was left alone once more, her giggles slowly dying down.

It wasn't long before she was aware of the soul-sucking silence again, cursing herself that her plan hadn't worked. She knew she couldn't possibly sleep with Macnair; that wasn't an option to consider, but maybe she could try something else. After several moments thought, Pansy came up with another plan, this one more suited to Macnair's clumsy character.

*

It was another two days before anyone came to see Pansy again, and she had to keep reminding herself of the plan so she didn't forget. She felt as though she was constantly on tenterhooks, and when she finally heard footsteps in the corridor outside, she prayed it would be Macnair.

Her prayers were answered, and the ugly git entered with a smarmy look on his face. He was too cocky to shut the door, unlike Dolohov, assuming he could fend her off without a problem. Chances were, he probably could, but Pansy was going to at least try to escape.

"Hey, you," Pansy said sweetly, smiling at him. Her tactics started pretty much the same as they had with Dolohov, but they were soon to take a sharp turn.

Macnair smirked. "Your charms won't work on me, Parkinson. Dolohov told me all about your cunning little plan."

Pansy shrugged. "Of course, you're too clever for that, aren't you?" She circled him as she had with Dolohov, her hands tracing the back of his robes tightly, and when she finally found herself next to the open door, with Macnair facing away, she ran for it. She didn't have a clue where she was going as she ran down the corridor, turning right, about to run into a room with a large oak door when Macnair finally caught up with her.

It hadn't been a surprise, he was a lot fitter than she was and probably used to people trying to escape from him. She sighed audibly and narrowed her eyes at him as he pushed her against the wall.

"You can't get away that easily, wench." Macnair sneered and tightened his hold on her arms. Without warning, he flipped her around so she was facing the wall, and she began to fight him, confused as to what he was doing. "But, I am not one to deny a witch what she so desperately wants. Incarcerous!!"

"No!" Pansy screamed as ropes came out and bound her to the wall, leaving Macnair's hands free to rid himself of his robes. "You can't do this!"

Macnair let out a loud laugh as he hiked up Pansy's skirt, exposing her flesh to the cool air of the corridor. "I think you'll find I can. It's not as if you don't want it, Dolohov assured me of that yesterday. You're a dirty, wanton whore."

"You'll regret this!" screeched Pansy, fighting with all her strength against her bonds, but to no avail. She felt her knickers being pulled aside and bit her lip, bracing herself for Macnair to enter her. She was no virgin, but she knew this would hurt; she wasn't aroused in the slightest.

"Perhaps," sneered Macnair. "But I'm going to fucking --"

"Avada Kedavra!"

Pansy flung her head to the side to see Dolohov with his wand outstretched, seething with anger only a few steps from them. Looking down towards her feet she saw the now lifeless body of Macnair, and stared in complete horror. "Did you just...?"

Dolohov gritted his teeth as he said, "Finite Incantatem," and released her from her bonds. Embarrassed, she procured her modesty by sorting out her clothes, attempting to look as presentable as she had done only moments ago. She stepped over the body, unable to take her eyes off it.

"Why did you kill him?" Pansy asked. "I mean, I'm glad. He was a scumbag, but why didn't you just stun him or something?"

"I'm a fucking Death Eater, Parkinson." Dolohov stuffed his wand back into his robes as he began to pace the corridor. "Act first, think later. Now, thanks to you, we have one dead servant on our hands."

Pansy looked at Dolohov, completely gobsmacked. "Thanks to me? How is it my fault he decided to rape me?"

"Oh, come off it," Dolohov snapped, narrowing his eyes at her. "You were probably throwing yourself all over him, just as you did with me."

"I did not!" Pansy replied in protest, folding her arms tightly together. "Look, if it's all the same to you, I'll be going now."

Dolohov grabbed hold of her arm firmly. "You're not going anywhere without me, and I can't go back to my Lord with a fucking dead Death Eater. He'll bloody kill me himself!"

Pansy shrugged. "Not my problem."

"Oh, it is your problem. You caused this." Dolohov ran his fingers through his hair, growing more obviously stressed by the moment. "Look, I can't let you go -- you know too much. You'll just have to come with me."

"Are you kidding? Come with you? Where?" Pansy tried to pull her arm out of Dolohov's gasp, but he was far too strong for her and held on with an iron-like grip.

"I don't know!" Dolohov snapped. "On the run. Anywhere. We just have to get out of here before they check up on us again."

Pansy raised her eyebrows in surprise. "They check up on you? They clearly don't trust you to handle a wandless woman in her early twenties, do they?" She mocked him, loving the fact that he was getting more irritated with her, and hoping it would serve as a factor for her release. He didn't seem to be budging on that though, and dragged her out through a door she'd previously not seen. It was early morning, and she took in their surroundings; it was a thick, vast forest, and the place she'd been staying in looked like an abandoned country cottage. "Quaint."

"I'm not in the mood for your games, now, Parkinson." Dolohov looked around shiftily, presumably seeing if there was anyone else in the area. When it was clear they were alone, he Disapparated them, and Pansy, unaware of what he was doing, began to dry heave as soon as they'd landed.

*

Pansy sat with her eyes trained on Dolohov, harsh and unforgiving. He was extremely pissed off with everythat that had happened, and was pacing backwards and forwards in an attempt to come up with a plan. Every so often he'd stop and scream, cursing himself for acting so quickly and killing Macnair in a flash.

It serves him right, Pansy thought, showing no mercy for the man who'd kidnapped her and was now on the run with her. If they were ever caught by the Dark Lord, it'd look as though they ran off as lovers, and Pansy shuddered at the thought that anyone could think that. Dolohov may be an attractive man, but he was a Death Eater, and had taken pleasure in torturing her parents, or at least she assumed so, since he gleefully told her about their predicament in St Mungo's.

It was getting on her nerves so much that she finally said, "Did you torture my parents?"

The question appeared to stop him in his tracks, and he frowned at her. "No. I was there, though."

"And you did nothing to stop them?" Pansy said sharply, much to Dolohov's confusion.

"I'm sorry," said Dolohov sarcastically. "Did you confuse me with a member of the Order of the Phoenix? Let me spell it out for you: I'm a Death Eater. I obey my Lord's commands, and those commands included kidnapping you."

"So, why, now," started Pansy, "don't you just let me go? You're a dead man anyway."

"You know too much. You know one of our hideaways for a start."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Then I'll forget. Hey, why don't you just Obliviate me?"

Dolohov cackled. "Yeah, like I can perform a competent Memory Charm. Besides, I'll get in even more shit if they catch me and you're not here."

"So your plan is just to drag me around with you, is that it?" Pansy said in annoyance. "Keep you company so you don't go insane? God, men are pathetic."

"Watch your mouth, Parkinson," Dolohov snapped, glaring at her. "You're stuck with this situation so get the fuck used to it and stop whining. The wards around this area will stun you if you attempt to penetrate 'em."

"Fan-bloody-tastic." Pansy sat down on the nearest rock, her head in her hands, unsure if life could possibly get any worse. They had no food, no water, no place to sleep, and she hadn't bathed in days. She couldn't see a way out of their disastrous situation.

*

It was later in the evening when Dolohov finally came up with a half decent plan, grinning as though he'd just thought up something utterly ingenious. "I'll go on the rob. Get us some grub."

"Please," said Pansy. "Don't be so common. And that's not a bad idea as long as you don't get caught and leave me trapped, wandless, in this ridiculous little square of wards you've set up."

Dolohov narrowed his eyes at her as he undid some of the spells to let him through the wards. "Don't wait up for me, Parkinson," he said sarcastically, redoing the spells after he was on the other side. Pansy watched him until he was out of sight, then returned to playing 'fuck, marry, kill' in her head.

*

Four days had passed since Dolohov had first Apparated her to this spot in a wood somewhere, and he'd spent most of his time away, on the rob collecting everything from food to beanbags to sleeping bags. The tent he'd picked up from a shop called Argos was exceedingly large, and kept out the rain that had plagued them on their first night.

Spending time with Dolohov when he was there was getting more and more boring, and she was relieved when he finally thought to bring back books and games. She rummaged through them, but the two books that were there were on Muggle history, and she just wasn't interested in that. At the bottom of the pile she found a small, rectangular box with the word 'Ludo' written across it, and coloured pieces on a square board. Her curiosity getting the better of her, she opened it and spilled the contents onto the floor.

The next ten minutes Pansy spent reading the instructions, tossing them casually aside when she was finished. Completely bored as hell, and with a little urge to play the game, she looked over to Dolohov. He was sitting with his knees huddled up to his chest and his head resting on them. "Want to play?" she asked, indicating the contents on the floor.

For a moment, he looked as if he was going to tell her to bugger off, but presumably as bored as she was, he muttered "All right," and trudged over to her. "I'll be green."

Pansy chose blue, as the four colours were the same as the Hogwarts houses, and she certainly didn't want to be associated with Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. She grabbed the blue and green counters, placing them on the board, and explained exactly how the game worked to Dolohov. He seemed to grasp it quickly enough, after all, it wasn't exactly complicated, and they rolled the dice to decide who would go first.

Forty-five minutes later and they finally finished the game; Pansy was the victor. It gave her a little sense of pride, even though it probably shouldn't, as it was only a Muggle game. Still, it wasn't as if there was anything else going for her, and she held her hand out to shake his. He rudely pushed it away and stood up, walking towards the part he'd designated as his.

"We're moving on tomorrow," he said gruffly, placing his hands in his pockets.

"What, again?" said Pansy, sick of moving around.

He glared at her as he said, "Yes, again. If we stay in one place too long they'll find us. Don't get pissed with me, young lady, this is all your fault."

"What?" Pansy stood and folded her arms tightly across her chest. "Are you kidding?"

Dolohov narrowed his eyes. "You're the one who was flirting with us and teasing us. It's no wonder Macnair tried to rape you!"

"You're the one who killed him!" Pansy spat. "You didn't have to do that. You could have used any number of spells to stop him. It's not my fault if you're overaggressive. Just let me go, already!"

"I can't," Dolohov said through clenched teeth. "If I'm found and you're not with me, they'll kill me for losing you."

"They'll probably kill you anyway for killing Macnair!" she shouted, but Dolohov just stared blankly at her. "Look, please? I mean, what's your plan, we just run forever? Steal forever?"

"We're moving tomorrow," Dolohov repeated, then walked into his compartment and zipped it up, closing the discussion. Pansy groaned and stamped her foot; there was no way she was ever going to forgive Dolohov for effectively ruining her life.

As far as she was concerned, there was only one thing for it: she had to run. The next chance she got, she would take it and get away from him. She had to have better chances alone; he was an incompetent fool.

*

It'd been two weeks since the argument between Pansy and Dolohov, and Pansy still hadn't foreseen a chance to run. He was very stringent with the wards, making certain she couldn't pass them, and without her wand, it was hopeless to try. Still, she kept her beady eye on them whenever he created new ones or went through the old ones, just in case he forgot something. It was obvious he was getting tired of it all, so she hoped it would be soon; surely he was bound to forget sooner or later.

And so he did, one early February morning, when he'd decided they were moving for the eleventh time. She supposed it was because he was tossing and turning all night, and the early sunlight that woke him up hadn't helped, either. He'd forgotten to put up the ward that stopped her going through, the one that stunned her if she tried, and as soon as his back was turned, she made a run for it.

"Pansy, I -- Oi!" She heard him call after her, but she was running as fast as she could, which, albeit, was not very quick. She jumped over twigs and branches; ran out of the way of tree stumps and nettles, but he was hot on her trail, and he was a lot faster. After all, he captured people for a living; he was bound to be better at it.

But Pansy was not giving up that easily, and found a new surge of strength as Dolohov neared her. He was shouting obscenities at her, and she made the mistake of turning around to tell him to "Piss off." In doing so, she'd taken her eye off the ball and fallen over a large branch, banging her knee on the hard, dirty forest ground. She tried to get up and carry on running, but her knee really hurt, and he was too close behind her anyway.

"What did you think you were doing?" Dolohov said, breathless but with a dangerous edge to his voice. "You can't outrun me!"

"I thought it was worth a try," Pansy muttered, rubbing her knee. Dolohov sat down on the forest floor next to her and rolled up her skirt. "What are you doing?!"

"Sssh," Dolohov said. He only brought it up to expose her knee and took out his wand. He muttered a couple of spells, and Pansy felt both the pain and the cuts drift away. "There, see. You should have trusted me."

Pansy stared at him. "Are you serious? You kidnapped me, and you won't let me leave! Why would I trust you?"

Dolohov sighed awkwardly, and Pansy did feel a little guilty; it wasn't as though he wanted this situation, even if he had caused it. He was in just as much shit as she was, maybe even more. And she had been surprised that he'd healed her knee; of course he'd never be the sort of man to kiss it better, but she'd thought he'd just leave it, want her to suffer. "I'm not out to get you," he said quietly, and then added, "anymore, at least. We're in this together now, whatever you think. I do have your best interests at heart, and those include not being killed."

"Thanks," said Pansy, indicating her knee. "I'm sorry for running, I just... I'm struggling to cope."

"It's not a bed of roses for me either," Dolohov grumbled, standing up and then holding his arm out for her. She grabbed it and pulled herself up. "Can you walk?"

Pansy nodded and said, "Slowly."

"Then we'll go slowly."

Pansy looked up into Dolohov's face, and there was a fleeting sort of half smile on it. She started to doubt whether she really would have been better off on her own; after all, could she rob to survive? She didn't think so. And her wand was god knows where, probably back at the cottage and hidden in some cupboard so she'd never be able to find it.

As they made their way back to the tent, Pansy's thoughts were filled with sadness that she might never get her wand back, and if they were on the run forever, she'd never be able to get a new one, either.

*

Pansy jumped up and down giddily as she ripped open the chocolate bar that Dolohov had brought back from his latest outing. She hated to admit that she liked something Muggle, but Dolohov had brought her several different chocolate bars to try after she'd complained she missed Chocolate Cauldrons. It wasn't the same, but it was as close as she was going to get, and she was very grateful for it.

Also in the pile were three romance books; they were random choices that Dolohov had made, but she'd spent ages begging him to get her some. They were her favourite genre, and if she had to resort to Muggle books, so she would. There were only so many hours you could spend doing nothing.

"Like 'em?" Dolohov asked gruffly, his hands in his pockets.

"They're great, thanks." Pansy looked up and smiled at him.

"Bloody good job an' all," he said, "'cos I wouldn't've been happy getting caught nicking 'em."

Pansy laughed loudly at the image of him being caught shoplifting romance books; it wouldn't have done much for his masculine image. "Yeah, well, you didn't, did you?"

"Not this time. Don't read 'em too quickly though." When Pansy looked at his face, there was a wide smile on it, which she returned. The feelings they'd had towards each other when they first went on the run were ones of anger and resentment, but with all the time they'd spent together that seemed to have changed into being grateful for each other's company. On Pansy's side, at the very least, she knew she couldn't survive without the food, books, and treats he brought her.

A niggling feeling in the back of her mind still told her she shouldn't be gladly taking things from him, that she was still effectively his captive, but she pushed it away. It was too stressful to think about, and she'd had enough stress in the last couple of months. She guessed it had been a couple of months, anyway, since she didn't have a calendar and hadn't a clue what the day that they'd run for it was.

"I've got some good news," said Dolohov, pulling up his robes slightly and sitting next to her. "I used a glamour and skulked around Knockturn Alley --" Pansy gasped audibly, but he just carried on. "And I heard on the grapevine that the Death Eaters have lost several battles lately. If the Order wins, and as terrible as it sounds because Merlin help me those blood traitors and Muggleborns do my head in, we will be free to live in the Wizarding world again. Well, you will. I suspect I'll end up in Azkaban."

Pansy smiled weakly; it was good news for her, then.

"But, it beats living on the run, I suppose."

"You should be careful hanging around there," said Pansy softly.

Dolohov rolled his eyes. "I don't need a lecture, Pansy. I did use an effective glamour."

"Sorry," she muttered, never having been one for apologies. "Might've been worried about you." He looked surprised, and then his expression turned into a smirk so she added, "But only because, you know, I'd be screwed without you."

"Yeah, yeah." He nudged her with his shoulder, and she nudged him back. "I believe you, thousands wouldn't."

Pansy shrugged. "Yeah, well, I don't care about thousands, just you at the moment. You're all I bloody have, aren't you?" There was silence for a moment, until she finally decided to ask a question that had been bugging her since the mention of Knockturn Alley. "How close do you reckon the war is to being won? You know, with Potter and his lot."

"Few months, maybe," said Dolohov. "But it's only a guess. It's been going on for years. Don't really see why we should get our hopes up now."

"Suppose," said Pansy. "Still, some hope is better than none, right?" Dolohov didn't answer her. He just looked blankly ahead of him, which Pansy took to mean that he'd lost his hope a long time ago.

*

It was early May when Dolohov came back with the biggest grin on his face that Pansy had ever seen. She was struggling to open one of the bottles of coke he'd brought her a few days ago, so she wasn't exactly pleased to see him smiling at her.

"What?" she snapped; she'd always hated not being able do something.

"You are not going to believe this," said Dolohov, his smile from ear to ear. She raised her eyebrows to prompt him to continue. "Potter won the bloody war!"

Pansy was so shocked she couldn't say anything, and she wasn't sure she'd even heard him correctly. "What?"

"The war has been won! We can go back to the Wizarding world!"

"You mean we don't have to be on the run anymore?" asked Pansy quietly, receiving an enthusiastic nod from him. "Are you serious? Because if you're dicking me around --"

Dolohov ran over to her and picked her up, swinging her around. When he finally put her down, he said, "I'm not kidding, Pansy, we're bloody free!"

Pansy screamed in delight; she was so happy she didn't know what else to do. "My parents," she said after a few minutes, "I can see how they are. They're at St Mungo's?"

"Yes." Dolohov looked away awkwardly; the torture of her parents had been a strained issue between them.

Touching his arm gently, Pansy said, "I don't blame you for their torture. I know you couldn't have done anything."

"Thanks," Dolohov muttered. "Appreciate it."

"So, shall we, you know, get a move on?" Pansy said excitedly. "I want to get my wand back, and I'm dying to sleep in a real bed again."

"Yeah, I guess." Dolohov looked sad, despite the good news, prompting Pansy to ask him what was up.

"What's wrong?"

Dolohov shrugged. "I don't know. Guess in a weird way I'll miss you, and I don't want to go back to Azkaban. And I don't have anywhere to live anymore."

Pansy's face turned into a wide-eyed grin, nearly as big as the one Dolohov had sported when he'd first arrived in the tent. "You really think I'd leave you out in the cold? After everything we've been through?"

"What do you mean?" Dolohov looked confused.

"You can stay at mine. If you're summoned to a trial and it looks bad we can flee again. At least this time we'd have galleons, and I'd have magic." Dolohov looked as though he was about to object, but Pansy placed a finger over his lips. "Come, there's no point being depressed now. If we were going to be depressed the time for that has come and gone."

"All right," said Dolohov, his usual smirk back in place. "But if you think I'm going to repay you by cooking and cleaning, you've got another thing coming!"

Pansy laughed. "I've got house-elves for that sort of thing, and you, mister, are certainly no house-elf."

"Indeed I am not." He leant forwards, his face only inches away from hers, and kissed her passionately on the lips. It had been coming for quite a long time now, the tension and chemistry had been building between them over the months, and it had to come out at some time or other. Dolohov was a rough kisser, but Pansy liked that, and popped a light kiss on his cheek when he pulled away. "All man, see?"

"Oh yes," said Pansy. "You're all man."

As Pansy watched Dolohov take down all the wards and put away the tent, she didn't have any inkling to run away from him. In fact, she was quite excited at the prospect of properly living with him. It didn't seem too bold a move, moving in together, as they had lived together for the last few months, just in a tent.

Besides, she really owed him; he'd taken care of her when she needed him most and for that she would be eternally grateful. Yes, the future looked very bright from where she was standing, and she hadn't been this happy in months.

That could only be a good thing, right?