#so I’m running the pattern for our clinic layout

[fruitless-vain]

This is called “this is totally what an EKG sounds like”

[hexiewrites]

you can’t take the sky from me: ch 2 - captive

a/n: me: “i’m not going to post more of this story till it’s basically done”. me, two days later: “FUCK IT I'M JUST GONNA POST LETS DO THIS.” anyways. thank you all for the love & support from the first chapter!!! I so so so appreciate it. no guarantees on a regular posting schedule, but I’m going to aim to do one or two a week, depending on how all this goes for me. <3 hope you enjoy!! tagging: @nymphadoraholtzmann (my beautiful beta!), and: @flintwoodandco @provocative-envy @olivieblake @blood-and-death-will-fall @newt-scxmander @kyonomiko @ff-sunset-oasis @habababa @scremereel [let me know if you want to be tagged in future updates!!]

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They were, it seemed, the last people to reach the deck of Wood’s ship. Which made sense, because Pansy had purposefully walked slowly and Weasley hadn’t seemed to wanted to push her much - she’d caught him eyeing the heels she had chosen that day more than once. Clearly, he seemed to think he’d captured a girl, soft and weak and in shoes she couldn’t run away in. One knife that she didn’t know how to use, and a permanent pout on her soft full lips.

For the moment, she decided to let him think that. Until she knew more, of course.

“Aye, was starting to worry about you for a minute,” came a familiar voice. This, of course, must be Wood. He wasn’t anything extraordinary, for a Captain. Didn’t have Draco’s pale grace or Theo’s broad shouldered confidence. Hell, he didn’t even have the imposing air of her father and the few other men she’d happened to meet who had their own ships. He was simply…  a man. Not the tallest she’d met or the shortest. Muscular, but more lean than anything. Sandy beige hair and brown eyes. Completely forgettable, minus the strange brogue in his accent.

“You worry entirely too much,” said Weasley behind her.

Only.

Pansy was looking at two people who looked so similar to the man who had found her that now she wasn’t entirely sure if Weasley was the best way to refer to him. Two of the crew gathered in front of her must have been related to the man behind. The had the same blue eyes, sharp and bright. And the same bright red hair - the other man’s was longer than her captor’s, and he too was differently shaped. Shorter and less muscular, looked like he had enough to eat. That one was wearing a pair of coveralls with a streak of grease down the side and Pansy nearly winced - how stereotypical did one have to be?

The other, well. That was new. The third Weasley was female, with her red hair tied back into a tight plait that fell down her back. She was in an outfit that looked almost like armour, thick and yet malleable. Pansy could count three guns from what she could see, and she had a small feeling that it would be an insult to this girl - this woman - to assume she didn’t have far more weapons hidden than the ones in view.

And then, another voice.

That was odd. This ship, from the little Pansy had seen of it, didn’t seem that much larger than her own. And yet she had now met as many crew as her own had. Of course, her ship had empty bedrooms, yes. But they didn’t have a need for more people.

Curious.

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This voice was also female, and that struck another odd chord in Pansy as well. If she hadn’t been entirely sure that they were obviously in different lines of business, she would be now. It was exceedingly rare to come across another scavenger ship with one other female on it, let alone two.

“Percy,” the voice admonished softly. It was a high and lilting voice and Pansy turned her head to catch a swirl of long blonde hair and a swoop of deep blue skirts. “Why have you got her cuffed?”

Pansy opened her mouth, wondering how easy it would be to get this woman to believe whatever it was she wanted. Play up the ‘sisterhood’ thing. And then she focused and realized that the look in the eyes across from her wasn’t one of pity or worry, but curiosity.

Percy, the Weasley behind her, moved in a way that felt to Pansy like a cross between a shrug and a wave. “She pulled a knife on me,” he explained, and across from them, the girl-Weasley laughed.

“I figured growing up with me you wouldn’t underestimate a woman like that, hmm big-brother?” she teased.

The blonde laughed as well, her entire body turning towards the redhead - a sunflower to a dying light. And then she refocused on Pansy, and Wood stepped forward, clearing his throat.

“‘Lo. Welcome to my ship, The R.S.S. Phoenix. I’m Captain Oliver Wood. See you’ve already met my first mate Percy. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Pansy thought this over, wondered if she was safer to play the helpless card or to keep her mouth closed until she knew what they wanted. R.S.S. They were commissioned, then, paid by the Ministry. Research ship. Though, she didn’t know many research ships that went on scavenging missions, and the contradiction was enough to keep her mouth closed.

“Hmm,” Oliver mused, looking around at the crew. “Right, nothing to see here everyone. Let’s prep for departure. Perce, take ’er down to the medbay, we’ll see if she’s coded. Luna,” he prompted, and the blonde glanced away from the redhead and in his direction. “She may have been on there quite some time - don’t s’pose you have any extra food you could whip up for our guest? Ron,” second-male-Weasley turned now, but before Pansy could hear the next line of orders, Percy was pulling her in the other direction.

Pansy wondered what it would be like, as they walked, to be on a ship with a medbay. On her ship, you went to Theo if you thought you needed stitches - his hands were the steadiest. Marcus for resetting breaks and dislocations, he was the firmest and most likely to get it over with. Draco had some knack for minor injuries, though he was often too frustrated that someone had managed to get themselves hurt to be much use. Pansy was at the bottom of the chain, because her preferred method of problem solving was hitting things with a wrench, and the boys had very quickly learned that often was not exactly the skill you wanted when you were injured.

She made sure to scan the layout of the ship as they travelled. It was much more straightforward than hers, linear from what she could tell. They passed more than one research bay and she couldn’t help but try and see through the frosted glass, catching what looked like a circuit board on one table. And then, the medbay. It was smaller than she had pictured, but still. Clean and bright, with an operating table stretched out down the middle. And another person, a tiny one with what seemed to be a lot of hair.

Another girl.

Something about this entire operation was starting to seem off. She had never heard of a Ministry authorized ship with three women on it, especially with two of them having jobs. Luna was clearly just the cook - probably one of the men’s wives, though perhaps not a very dedicated one.

Percy knocked lightly on the door and the woman inside spun to face them. She wasn’t wearing the classic Doctor’s outfit that Pansy remembered from back when she lived on a colony, just some rather drab getup that anyone could have scooped up on a border moon.

“Percy,” the woman greeted fondly, and then her eyes narrowed as she spotted Pansy. “So this was the commotion I heard on the comms.”

“Yes,” Percy confirmed, nudging Pansy forward a little bit. “Can’t get much out of her, though she did try and stab me, so I’d be careful.”

The woman smiled, and it fell somewhere between friendly and menacing, and Pansy decided if she were going to pull another knife on anyone, it probably wouldn’t be the bushy-haired Doctor.

“Right. Not going to tell us your name then?” The woman asked, raising a brow at Pansy. “That would really be the easiest option, you know.”

Pansy huffed, this was getting frustrating, pretending to be absolutely stupid. “You’re going to scan me either way, aren’t you? Might as well get it over with.”

The woman’s smile turned sharper, and she nodded. “Well, not entirely brain damaged, then. Percy, I’ll need her arm.”

Percy complied, but not before glancing down at Pansy with a stern look in his eyes. “She might look small, but Dr. Granger is no stranger to the use of a sharp blade herself. Don’t try anything.”

Pansy managed her own small, and hopefully placating, smile, and then held her arm out to the woman in front of her.

Pansy had had her code for as long as she could remember - dark black lines drawn in an imperceptible pattern on the inside of her arm. It had shifted as she grew, though had been relatively stable since she had settled into her role on her ship. But the boys hadn’t scanned it when she first joined, and so she hadn’t had it checked in years. For most people, on the colonies or who worked on ships regularly, scanning was such a common practice it was nothing.

This felt vulnerable, strange, and naked and Pansy wanted to run. But Percy was behind her, holding her still, and Dr. Granger had her wrist tightly in a small dark hand. Pansy shut her eyes as she felt the familiar burn of the scanner and listened for the usual beep. It didn’t come. Instead, three warning tones sounded and her heart lurched even further than it had already done that day.

“Pansy Parkinson,” the doctor read off the screen, and Pansy frowned at the sound of her name, so clinical, like it wasn’t one of the most important secrets she kept. They would all know, now. “SD.22343, month older than Ron if you can believe it. Says here she’s been missing some four years, disappeared off London-XW. Looks like her father has a pretty hefty prize out for her return.”

Pansy had to force herself to breathe as panic started to rise in her chest.

“Wait,” she whispered, hoping to god that Percy and Granger would listen to her. “It’s… look, it wasn’t…”

“Kidnapping?” Percy mused, and Pansy had a feeling he wasn’t speaking to her. “Seems odd to keep her for so long - galleons can’t be going up that much after this much time. Runaway?” he suggested, and Dr. Granger shook her head.

“Stowaway, I should think, by the looks of her. Must have been so hard, living on a fully formed planet, plenty to eat and nothing to worry about. Little rich girl wanted a taste of adventure and ended up stuck in the black with a group of pirates.” The doctor nearly spat out the words and Pansy frowned.

“That’s not-” she tried again, but the Doctor was speaking once more.

“Those galleons would go a long way to the project, Percy,” she suggested, and Percy hummed over the thought himself.

“Wouldn’t look bad on my record to return a missing person,” he returned, and Pansy shook her head fiercely.

“Wait, you have to listen! I can’t go back there, I-”

The doctor huffed and turned away, hitting buttons on her scanner, clearly sending the information to the rest of the crew. “We gave you a chance to explain yourself, Parkinson.”

Pansy bit down on her lip. Fuck. Fuck. She wished she had Marcus, wished she had Draco or Theo, wished she had someone to run this all over with. What do I do? She wanted to scream. She knew the plan, knew the rules. But this was over her head. She didn’t know this game, the not-quite-heroes she was now stuck with. If they wanted money and Ministry favour…

“Right,” Percy decided, slipping her hand back into the cuff while she was distracted. “I’ll put her down in the cells until we have a plan of action. Thanks, Hermione.”

The woman was already back at her work station, and Pansy took the name and filed it away, though she was becoming increasingly more worried that she didn’t know the game anymore, and names were clearly not the valuable currency she was used to.

“Knives,” Percy demanded, as they stepped through a shimmering wall into one of the ships so-called ‘cells’. They weren’t really, as she had a bed and a separate bathroom. There was even a small bookcase in this one with a handful of older tomes, nearly relics by the state of them. It had a comm connection and a small porthole, but it also had a clear wall, nowhere to really hide. Pansy figured they were down by the cargo bay - secluded, but not private. She was not a guest here, not really, and Percy raised an eyebrow at her, extending a hand.

Pansy huffed and tugged one out from each of her boots, passing them over to him handle first. She slid one off the outside of her left leg and one from it’s space secure against her forearm.

“Be careful with those,” she snapped at the redhead in front of her. “They mean a great deal to me.”

“I know that’s not all of them,” he responded, and Pansy huffed.

“It is,” she insisted, finally starting to feel tired and bratty after everything she’d been through.

Percy gave her another moment and then he put the knives he had already collected into a small box in the wall that promptly disappeared, and then stepped up towards her. Pansy clenched her fists as he patted her down, running his hands over her legs and smoothing down her flowing trousers to feel against her skin. Pansy couldn’t help but shiver as his hands skimmed over her hips and up her sides, though the moment was short lived when he pressed against the edge of another knife and raised a knowing brow at her.

“Fine,” Pansy huffed, freeing it from her body and dropping it into his hand. “Are you happy now?”

“No,” Percy retorted, and his chest grazed the front of her body as he stepped closer. Pansy had to swallow this time - it had been too long since she was so close to a strange man. Even Marcus - that had been months ago. And despite this one’s obvious downside of capturing her, and his strange clipped tone, there was something about him, as well. He smelled musky, not like her boys did when they couldn’t get fresh water in time for all of them to shower as much as they wished. Clean, but masculine. He was clearly muscular under his own clothes, more so than she had realized earlier. He was taller than her by enough that even in her heels she felt small up against him, and his breath was hot as it ghosted over the side of her face. His hands skimmed up her back and she fought the urge to press her body against his - pure animal instinct, she chided herself - and for just a minute she thought he might have missed it.

“This would all be much easier if you told the truth, Miss. Parkinson,” he mumbled, pressing against the last blade that sat nestled between her shoulderblades.

Pansy inhaled one last time as she pulled it out and away from her body, almost tossing it in his direction. “Fuck you,” she spat, crossing her arms neatly across her chest.

Percy raised a brow, questioning. If she didn’t know any better, she might have thought he was laughing, the way his lips twitched.

And then he turned and left, slipping effortlessly through the wall of glass the shimmered in his wake.

As soon as he was gone, Pansy screamed and lunged herself at the barrier. Predictably, she smashed into the wall and groaned at the impact on her shoulder. “Fuck!” she shouted, lifting a hand to pound at the glass. “Motherfucker!” she added for emphasis, kicking at it with one of her heels. “Just you fucking wait for my boys to find me! They’ll light this fucking ship on fire!”

Finally, after she had kicked and screamed and gotten out most of the anger and pain and hurt that had been building, Pansy sunk down to the ground, back against the glass, and let herself do the only thing she never did.