Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter.

With You

by Ydream08

Careful not to hurt Love, the young woman picked him up with her newly manicured hands. He indignantly purred, disgruntled at being manhandled.

"You little beast, didn't you miss me?"

The answering meow was louder against the far-away noises of the late night street. Silence was a close friend of loneliness, and it was the last thing Pansy Parkinson liked. Especially after the War. One of the reasons she had been unable to refuse Love when dear Theodore Nott, her old school friend, had mentioned he was looking for a home to five kittens.

Soft-hearted she was not, at least not entirely, and it would have been foolish to accept five kittens. Living off on her own was hard enough. One kitten, she had ended up taking in.

Closing the door of her quaint apartment with an elaborate nudge of her heels, then getting out of them, Pansy made it to the kitchen with Love wriggling in her grasp.

"Not in the mood for cuddles, huh?" She released the snow white cat and let him be.

Her stomach grumbled, so taking her wand she swished it to make the ingredients get prepared ahead of her. She tied up her long black hair in a bun. Today was so humid that she was sick of her hair no matter how damn beautiful she looked in their family jewelry store.

Pansy worked in the jewelry store, Parkinson's, with her grandfather, Calnuoth Parkinson. He was a craftsman, had been more than seven decades although he had not solely worked on jewelry until Pansy's father had inherited the Lordship of the Parkinsons. Pansy was more than happy working for her grandfather. Ever since falling out with her parents, he has been a constant support for her. For that, she minimilized her complaints of long working hours.

After today's very long arduous day at work (her grandfather was a man of discipline, and in his absence, Pansy had to work ten times harder), Pansy was eager to get to bed, so she quickly changed clothes, then continued the usual routine of her home. She charmed her dishes to be washed after eating, picked clothes for tomorrow, removed her makeup, swept and cleaned the house (what a life it was to be without House-elves!), and finally decided on a nail-polish to apply anew. She was magically drained by the time she sat in front of her couch, so doing magic for this last chore was out of question.

Doubled over to reach her toenails, Pansy glanced at Love. He was currently licking himself.

"Did you like the colour?" At her voice, he turned to stare at her. His eyes were so striking, one blue and one green. As a half-kneazle, Love had been crossbred with a specie special to Turkey, a province called Van, where the breed gets the name. As he was part magical, Pansy believed he understood better than a Muggle cat. How to doubt that when he so intently looked at her!

Grinning at Love, Pansy shook her head. Tonight wasn't a game night. Putting away the nail-polish, Pansy stretched out her hands and feet to let her fingers dry. It was important to be patient now so her polish could dry off, although she could kill to sleep at this very second.

Her hope for going to bed straight away after this was crushed however, when Love jumped to her lap where she had laid out her hands.

"LOVE! My nails!" Her brief horror was replaced by resentment. Her nails weren't completely ruined, but she honestly hated the print of texture (at this instance, fur of Love) on her nails.

"I'm not going to leave you breakfast tomorrow, you fat thing! You are awful. Look what happened."

The look of Love's regret and his eyes begging for forgiveness could not resonate better with Pansy's irritable but intact heart.

"Argh, fine." She gave in to his meows. "Come here. I love you, too. But, you have to know that I didn't overreact. You shouldn't jump where ever you want."

Pansy petted and cuddled Love, until her eyelids were so heavy that she couldn't keep them open. She could re-polish her nails in the morning.

"Hop down; I'm going to bed."

And she did, falling asleep as soon as her eyes were closed.

Next morning, she showered and dressed. She always had breakfast with her grandfather, and he would be back today, so she entered kitchen only to give Love his breakfast. He didn't immediately eat and followed her to the door. She sent kisses to the air and promised to come back home immediately. Not that she had anywhere else to go and anything else to do.

Disapparating to Diagon Alley, Pansy stopped by the pastry then headed to the store. There were only two jewelries in this alley, and with a glance one could say which one was theirs. Classy and elegant, their store has been where purebloods frequented ever since its opening over a century ago. The store was spacious, with only four heavy-set armchairs for visitors, and lines of glass showcases housing many jewelry: necklaces, bracelets, rings...anything that one could think of.

Her grandfather was of course already there, bent over doing the fine details on his latest work. His thick white hair was combed back, his moustache and beard trimmed, his clothes finely pressed. Aging like her grandfather was simply admirable. Although he had lost his fitness, not to mention the hump he had to his back, Calnuoth Parkinson was a man that wore and carried himself as he did in his youth.

"Good morning, pap," Pansy greeted him with a smile. The answering humph was enough as she knew he was currently occupied.

Pansy proceeded to the back of the store and put away her belongings and readied their small table. They always had breakfast here, which was a small space for storage and crafting both. She occasionally spent a few hours here to check the inventory, mostly by the closing hours.

"Good morning, sweetheart!" her grandfather beamed once he joined her, his deep voice rumbled. "How is my favorite granddaughter?"

"Only granddaughter and grandchild. So compliment not accepted, pap," Pansy rolled her eyes to which her grandfather laughed. "Also, you haven't seen me since Monday— so what, three days? Missed me already?"

"Enough time to miss my dearest. It doesn't help that you look exactly like my Amelia." That was her grandmother of course. She had died giving birth to Pansy's father. "Let me tell you, though. You have one important thing she never had: My eye and skill for jewelry crafting. Your father was just like Amelia, awful at this, I say you, awful. So I'm surprised you took after me."

Pansy smiled and started the breakfast. Her grandfather filled her in about his trip to France. He had gone to visit an old friend. It had been purely a social visit, which meant one way or the other, the topic of her had come into conversation with people of certain standings, especially those who were bachelors or had close single relatives.

"You should come with me the next time, everyone wants to meet you. And besides, how much longer do you plan to stay alone? You can't turn down every suitor."

That she could do, and did. At age twenty-six, she has been really late to wed by pureblood standards, but she didn't really care.

She had cared once upon a time. After the War, marrying well had seemed like the best path to obtain acceptance in the changing Wizarding World. Of course, she had never planned to marry a Muggle-born to be at the good graces of the Ministry, but marrying to some pureblood her parents found suitable had been an idea. Bonus if the wizard was easy on the eye.

And there had been someone. Pansy had been engaged. Everything had been perfect for her family. For her as well. She had cared to wed well and be a good daughter, right? And her fiance had a name that was not tainted by the Death Eaters and rich vaults to boot. Pansy had had everything she could have ever wanted.

Well, it wouldn't be understatement to say everything went downhill in the blink of an eye.

Who would have known that getting drunk and fucking Ronald Weasley behind Hermione Granger-Weasley would do the job?

Pansy should have known; but simply speaking, she had never found herself capable of it.

That incidence was a blow to her family name that neither her fiance nor her parents dealt with well.

So, here she was at the moment.

On her own. Minding her own business. Trying to figure out what she could do with her life.

Making jewelry was the best answer at the moment. Her grandfather supplied her with more than enough money, in exchange for her diligent work of course. And he was patient and forgiving with her, considering how Pansy had screwed up everything with that engagement—in his eyes, she couldn't have done a worse job than her father. "There are worse things than calling off a marriage, my dear. I convinced your grandmother to call off her own engagement to marry me, granted she had simply requested their family to end her arrangement, unlike how you...ahem, well, went with the ordeal. But you are young! I was young once, too, and if I were young in these times… But your father? He listened to me at the first rising of You-Know-Who and didn't get involved, but for a second time, I could no longer speak him reason."

So, yes, Pansy was forgiven. She doubted even her grandfather's lenience could be accommodated to a late marriage though. Downside of being the last heir to their name (His plan was to change the surname of the groom).

"Pap, what would become of you if I married off?" Pansy winked, wanting to dissipate any oncoming speech. "Like this, we keep each other company."

"Do not find ease at that. I am nought but an old wizard. And I do not possess any elixir of life. Once you bury me, you will see how the real life is."

"Cheery." Pansy sighed; she didn't like it when her grandfather talked like that. "Anyway, got anything I can busy myself with? Or now that you are here, can I start with a new design?"

"I took out an old box of valuables. Why don't you freshen them and take inventory? We might sell a few of them. Don't forget to check their magical properties. I don't want customers returning rings because they were cursed."

That happened only once, and Pansy had been present when the ring was worn. It hadn't been her fault either. The witch had picked a ring at the staff side of the counter and worn it without consultancy. Granted, Pansy shouldn't have left it out but still. At least the witch had been a Half-Blood. The curse would have killed off her arm if she had been a Muggleborn. This way, it only took six months to heal completely (the woman's parents were purebloods, thank Merlin).

"Sure thing!" Pansy replied. "I'll do my best. Though… If they buy it, get cursed and die, unable to return the ring, there is no problem then?"

Her grandfather chuckled. "Don't talk back to me, but get to work."

Thankfully this morning no customers dropped by. So Pansy was free to arrange the store, check pieces on showcases, go over the ledgers and skim over the orders. After that did she tackle the box of old jewelries her grandfather had mentioned.

Pansy was no trained Curse-Breaker. She hadn't even returned to Hogwarts to repeat her eighth year. Taking N.E.W.T.s exams separately had been an option, too, and she had failed them without attending school. She had never imagined she would work for a living, so it had been a trivial technicality. Sure, the Parkinsons had emptied their vaults, paid the Ministry to the last knut for her father's bail and later his lawyers. Even with that, they had an adequate income with the few estate investments on her mother's name which had been spared. Pansy really needn't work a minute in her life. Her family had been well-off and she was to wed some rich bloke.

Losing all that because of a… mistake (it hadn't been by mistake when Weasley put his tongue in her throat, which she had excitedly reciprocated), Pansy wished she had studied a little bit harder.

However, that had not been the end of the world. Even if the dispute with her parents were to get her disowned (which she was not. Yet, at least), her grandfather's support and her vigilance since then had turned the tables.

Pansy Parkinson would call herself a self-taught Charm Specialist. Not exactly a Curse-Breaker, but one close to that who focused on charms and curses interwoven to the material of any object, but gold and gems in particular. Of course, her grandfather taught her the basics, to later she added textbook readings and practice on actual objects.

One thing Hogwarts had contributed to her was a good Charms education. Learning to magically apply make-up and do basic cleaning charms had been the fundamentals.

"Did you start with that box?" her grandfather called from the inside. He smoked his pipe there so customers wouldn't see.

"On it!" Pansy answered, which was true as she was at the third necklace of the box. Half an hour more passed before she started the fourth piece. It was a golden ring, much like a marriage band. Its surface was so clear and smooth that Pansy was surprised of its lack of blemish. She knew it was old, not that the gold gave it away, but because the metal chain it was attached to was rusted in places.

She placed the ring on the table without touching it and put away the box to make space. First thing she would do was check for any curses that would activate on contact. It would be amatoruish of her to think she would be burned if she touched it as most of the fine rings had curses that generally affected once worn. However, Pansy had an ominous feeling about this ring. She didn't know why. Perhaps because it reminded her that she was undeniably single, and would be for some time.

It was harrowing to be around and sell wedding jewelries, had been worse when Pansy had first started to work here anyway.

"Pansy, I forgot to ask you! Will you go to Burke's? My package must have arrived."

At her grandfather's voice, Pansy jumped up and went to the back room. "Sorry, paps. Didn't hear it. What did you say?"

Right, a package. Pansy went back to the front, took her cloak and bag. She was just about to exit when it came to her that she forgot to put away the ring. She didn't want some random customer trying it on.

"Stupid," she mumbled to herself as she made her way to the counter. She took out her wand and cast a simple levitation spell.

There was an explosive hiss, like water splashing into hot oil, and her wand hand was paralysed for a split second when she realised the ring had reacted to her spell.

It was like in slow motion as she registered what happened: the ring shone faintly red, mid-air where her spell was broken, and Pansy, the idiot she was, reflexively reached out to catch the ring with her free hand.

During her catch, the ring had accidently caught in her knuckle and doing a fist she only pushed it further into her finger.

Then, fast as a clap, momentarily canceling both her vision and breathing, Pansy Parkinson vanished from the face of earth.

It was a pub that she came into, standing but not oriented, Pansy first took in the dim light, tankards of drinks and a bar table to the left. Where the hell was she? A commotion at the other side of the place got her attention, and listening in, she caught a few yells:

"Yer see that?"

"The Hobbit took us by fools"

"What queer hobbits, those Shire-folk!"

"One moment he was singing and dancing, then he vanished from sight—like magic!"

Really, what the bloody hell was this place? Not the jewelry store, that for sure. She hadn't Disapparated accidentally or anything.

Pansy recalled the damned ring, sure that it might got something to with it, she immediately took it out of her finger and stashed away in her bag. As she did so, a man to the left corner behind her stirred. Taking a glance, she caught his expression of mild startlement and curiosity. She dismissed his presence; what Pansy wanted least now was to deal with random strangers. Looking around and noting the odd outfits of the people here Pansy thought again: Strangers who were possibly Muggles at that.

Muggles! Shock and disgust quickly placed at the bottom of her stomach. There was no other explanation to how alien she found this place. No House-elves to do the cleaning, not a single levitated tray to give out orders, and no wizardry trace at all.

Pansy hid her wand in her cloak right away.

Heading to the bar table, Pansy looked around for someone in charge. Might be because the commotion had not yet died down, there was no one in sight.

She huffed, not one to wait around, walked towards where she thought was the exit. Outside was worse, if possible.

If she needed a clear evidence she was no longer in the Diagon Alley, here it was!

The unattended cobblestone was the first indicator, though Pansy couldn't decide whether that was only worse for her heels. Where the road headed she couldn't tell, as it was dark past evening and the air was thick with clouds. Must have rained recently as well by the look of the various ponds all over the place. Also it smelt. Not the soothing after-rain scent, but it mixed with the smell of wet animals… Looking around to spot a stable, where she could pick out the back of a horse, Pansy understood the source of the smell as well.

Walking a safe distance to be out of sight, Pansy did the smartest thing to do at the moment. Go fucking home. Disapparation rules didn't require one to know where they were. Lucky that. Because she couldn't care less.

"It is odd that here is night, though," she whispered to herself. A horse nearby neighed in answer. "Salazar! You scared me."

Talking with Love was one thing, but with a random horse was just plain weird of her. Pansy shook her head and took her wand. She should go to the jewelry store, and before her grandfather noticed her absence, visit Burke's to take that package. She could deal with the ring later, which most definitely was a portkey of sorts.

As she had already held her wand and doing the damn spell, Pansy would have expected to have Disapparated midst her thoughts of hurry to catch with her chores.

"Are you kidding me?" she hissed, staring at her wand as if it could be broken. She tried to Disapparate but nothing happened. Not even a trace of magic.

In a moment of irrationality, Pansy wondered if she was rendered magicless. Pansy's grandmother on her mother's side used to love sharing such terrifying stories when she was but a child, which were all about witches and wizards losing their magical abilities overnight. She would say their magical cores would be depleted. If any fool of a cousin of Pansy asked, "Like a vampire's bite?", her grandmother would sneer and whisper, "Worse." Then, a grin would appear in her wrinkled face upon the children's gasps. "It would mean a Mudblood is born. Those lowly births steal our magic, deplete us and render us to filthy Squibs — nothing more than a Muggle. That is the worst offense against a pureblood who has a right to magic. Imagine losing your powers in the blink of an eye. Would you like that?"

Pansy shook her head to get rid of the ancient memory, especially not wanting to recall how she used to cry at that part ("I love my magic! I don't want it stolen!"). Her grandmother was not very much liked in her family, Pansy's mother being the first to go sour over the mention of her. Pansy never used to be a fan either.

Though for a split second, Pansy wondered if it was possible, whether she had lost her magic just like that. And whether it was really because what her grandmother had said… Fuck that old hag, Pansy thought and reprimanded herself to be a tiny bit of smart. Sure she hadn't wanted to use her brain when she fucked Weasley, but right now she very much wanted reason with her.

She halted, took a deep breath, and it helped to remember the ring she had accidentally worn which was most definitely cursed. That could easily explain why she couldn't use magic and was transported to—

Wait. Who said she couldn't use magic, if she tried a spell other than Disapparation (she had taken the licence at her second try anyway), perhaps—

Lumos, Pansy thought and her wand was lit in a heartbeat.

"Oh, Merlin, thank you, thank you, thank you…" Pansy's headache now was because she couldn't Disapparate for some reason. Merlin knows why.

She used Nox and wondered what she could do now. Disapparation was out. She was in a Muggle neighbourhood hence none of the fireplaces would be accessible. Portkey was not an option at all, so that left broomsticks and the famed Night Bus.

Pansy never liked the Night Bus as it was a commoners' transport, but since she couldn't see any broomstick lying around…

Pansy huffed, then found a proper road that she prayed the Night Bus would pick up. She looked around to check if she was alone, and concluding perfectly that there was not a living soul outside in this cold, she took out her wand and pointed outwards.

The road was empty save for a barrel or two downturned by the edge of it. Some puddles reflected the moonlight, and from that the road gave away how unkempt and dirty it was. It was not a road for a bus, but Pansy had no choice but to hope that it did not matter where she was for the Night Bus. The magical transport would come to any witch or wizard in need.

Having been standing there for what felt like half an hour, her wand stretched out, Pansy doubted the bloody bus would be coming.

She didn't want to cry, but Pansy was utterly fucked.

"Bollocks," she whispered, casting Lumos and swishing her wand so that the lighted tip would get the attention of the Night Bus which must be on its way to get her. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

Pansy stashed away her wand and thought that she had little else to do than return to the Muggle inn. At least there she could ask for directions. Even if they were Muggles, they could point out to London easily enough.

In her way to the pub, just by the doors, Pansy collided with two figures, both nasty and ugly. They were shocked to see her, a second later annoyingly pleased (Had they never seen a woman before?), but Pansy was honestly disgusted and irritated by their uncouth and medieval appearance. Not to mention that she had had enough for today.

Muggles were so barbaric and Pansy doubted they would understand even if she explained them where they did wrong. For example, not fucking apologizing for running into a lady.

Agitated, Pansy sneered and shoved the two enough to make herself a way in.

There weren't as many people now as she had been here at first. Some had left, she supposed, though she didn't recall anyone else passing by her outside. There were three tables occupied at the moment. One of them was sat by six to seven men, short and burly who were heavily bearded even for her standards— Pansy had seen half-giant Rubeus Hagrid, for Salazar's sake! That was saying something.

Pansy would have looked away immediately if it were not for the glint of various jewelries the group wore.

Mostly there were rings, but she could see beads with rubies and emeralds woven to their hair and beards, and also many golden chains on their necks. If she could get a closer look, Pansy would love to ask where they purchased them. But sense told her not to strike up that conversation, especially when she noticed weapons hung about their belts. Axes, Great Merlin help her! What was this place? She had heard Muggles used such primitive weapons when she was young, but definitely they wouldn't need them in a pub. Right?

Reluctantly Pansy returned to the bar. As if on cue, the occupants of another table sprung to their feet. Not that it made much of a difference, the three people were so...small even standing. How old were they?

One of them walked past her and she watched him till he closed the door of the pub behind him. The other two talked with a man who looked to be the owner of the pub, and then climbed the stairs.

While she was looking one way and the other dumbfounded, Pansy felt that she was being watched. The source of the familiar feeling turned out to be the man at the corner. The one she had seen first thing arriving here.

She couldn't perfectly make out his face as he was hooded but his eyes were striking as they caught the faint light: a blue so vibrant that Pansy had to admit she found it attractive.

The hooded man was talking to someone, a dark brown haired man -more like a boy- whose face was clean and open. He had big blue eyes that, with his overall appearance, gave him a juvenile and trustworthy air. Those two could have not been more opposite in looks.

Pansy cocked her brows at the persistent stare of the mystery man, then walked to the bar as she had initially planned.

Behind the counter there was a fat and sweaty man who had an apron tied around his round belly. He had warm face and a jovial smile, but his haste made him skittish, which Pansy did not quite like. It had been a trait she was taught to squash since childhood.

"Good evening," Pansy said with a huff, her annoyance was because of her dire situation, but as a last thought, she forced a sugary smile. "I was wondering if you could tell me where here is, and how I could go back to London?"

"Oh, dear, good evening to you as well young lady! Haven't seen you at all, please accept my apology if I failed to attend to you. Had you wanted a meal, or a place to stay? Oh goodness, what a terrible host I have been, but I hadn't seen you arrive! You have to pardon me, it must have been because of the mess here."

Pansy's effort to keep her smile was indeed admirable. "I don't require your hospitality, but thanks anyway. I asked you how I could go back to central London?"

"London? I have never heard of such place! And I know quite a few places from Dale of East to Rohan and Gondor of South. I'm sure you can not find no London in North either; and to the West there is only Hobbiton."

At the gibberish of the man, Pansy scowled. What in the name of Merlin was he talking about? Surely, he must know of London.

"This is England, for Merlin's sake! Even a Muggle must know London—" Realising the start of an outburst, Pansy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then tried again. "Please, kindly point me the way and I'll take my leave."

"Sorry, miss. Here is Middle Earth and I have not heard of that place you are seeking. If you are lost and in need of aid, I would gladly give you a room for tonight. Darkness has fallen already and it is dangerous times."

Middle-Earth? Pansy did not know of any Middle-Earth. Not in England, nor in the whole UK anyway.

"You must be mistaken," Pansy concluded. Her deduction eased her immediately, why hadn't she thought about it a moment ago she didn't know. She was always so quick to flare, a trait that was failed to be drilled out of her. "Is there anybody here I can ask who knows their way around better?"

"Perhaps I could help," came a sure voice.

Pansy turned around just when the stranger was removing his hood. Those blue eyes that had left an impression on her throughout the night had been a hint to his handsomeness, but Pansy fell short of words at realizing how attractive he indeed was. He was ragged and looked poor, yes, and Pansy Parkinson actually prefer men of high standing and better taste in clothing, but she could not deny this stranger the advantage of his broad shoulders and Quidditch player-like physique, angular face, and dimpled chin. And there was a look of him, something in his expression, that immediately jolted her core. Not magical core, mind you.

"Go ahead upstairs, Mister Underhill. I shall join you shortly," spoke the stranger man again but this time to the short companion of his from the table, who had also come to stand next to them.

Mister Underhill left them be, so the stranger turned back to Pansy, observing.

"Yes?" Pansy prompted the man to speak, her brows high in her forehead in disbelief.

"Of course, if anybody could help you, it must be the Strider!" cried the fat innkeeper from behind. "Oh, dear lad, help out Miss—"

"Parkinson, Pansy Parkinson," Pansy provided with haughty disdain.

"...help out Miss Parkinson, yeah? I tried my best but I seem to lack the answer she seeks. If even you fail, oh Strider, then I must insist I should go ahead and prepare her a room."

"Strider?" Pansy remarked as the innkeeper hurried by her. "Is that a name? Why don't you give me your real name so I can trust you in the first place." Not that she would. But it wouldn't hurt to get a name to his handsome face.

"I am called Strider, among many other things. It should suffice for now, as I doubt there would be any need for us to further acquaint."

That was harsh. And an old-fashioned way of talk. But still harsh and for no reason at all. Pansy scowled involuntarily. Men did not talk to her this way, especially those with whom she met for the first time. Such disrespect on social occasions was never tolerated.

Then again, Pansy was not in the company of a pureblood wizard.

Crossing her arms, Pansy sneered. "Right. And I guess you learned manners from elves, did you not? At least they have the mind to punish themselves for such disrespect." The slip was unmistakable (the mention of elves to Muggles) but Pansy hardly cared in her anger.

The man, Strider, was confused a moment, but a smile cracked his face. A reaction Pansy was not expecting, thus her sneer morphed into a deeper scowl.

"Well, make no mistake, I did not fully understand your meaning, but I shall thank you anyway. Elves indeed taught me many a useful things."

Mad, this man was. But how come he spoke of elves when he was so clearly a Muggle?

"Wait— are you a wizard?" Pansy asked, all her dislike of the "Strider" forgotten.

"That I am not. But I could help you still."

It would not be a lie to say Pansy was disappointed. The relief that she wasn't currently breaking the law of Statue of Secrecy eased her headache, but it wasn't enough considering that she was talking with a Squib at best.

She should get the direction to London and mind her own business. It would never do her any good to interact with the wrong sort.

"Yes, please." Pansy drawled, but reminded herself to behave amiable. "I just want to you tell me how I could go to London? I could even manage a Muggle transportation as desperate as I am."

And she was. She could not Disapparate for Merlin's sake!

The Strider did not immediately reply. His silence was unnerving, although his dropped gaze gave her the opportunity to admire his face unknown. Shoot, she shouldn't be doing that. Why would she care that he had so long lashes?

Again, that tingling close to her core. Salazar curse it.

When he glanced back at her, he shook his head. "I apologize, I can be of no help. I know not a place by that name, and I have travelled far and wide. Wild or civilized, there is near no place in Middle-Earth I have not visited. Except for Mordor, of course."

"You must be kidding me," Pansy mumbled underneath her breath. She wiped her face and let panic speak without filter. "Is this a joke. How can you not know of London? It is the fucking capital city! Heart of English Wizarding World! Surely, even a Squib would know the entrance to the Diagon Alley."

Pansy knew they wouldn't. Children who would not manifest magic by age nine would not be let out of the house in pureblood families. Even in Half-Bloods, they would not be brought to the magical street after their status became clear once their Hogwarts letter was failed to be delivered.

Sharply taking a breath in, Pansy tried to reign in her anger which fuelled the throbbing of her head. What was this, a nightmare?

This "Strider" must be nothing but an ignorant fool. He would be of little help, just like the fat innkeeper. She had to find someone to help her, truly help her—not spout some nonsense.

"You said you are not a wizard— but do you know one?" Pansy asked this time. If only she could owl her grandfather…

"Gandalf the Grey is the only wizard I know."

"Gandalf Grey, right." Pansy didn't know of such a wizard, or that family name. Not a pureblood, then. Nevertheless, dire situations called for desperate measures… "Where can I find him?"

"I have not heard of him for a long time."

"And?" Pansy pressed. The Strider was not a man of many words.

"I do not know."

"Great," Pansy replied and masterfully ended the conversation. Her huff of annoyance did little to change her predicament.

She had expected the Strider to leave, but the man continued to stand there. He keenly observed her, from head to toe, and a scowl appeared on his harsh face.

"What?" Pansy asked before he could get a chance.

"You appeared out of nowhere into this inn."

The matter of fact statement expected an explanation but Pansy did not give one.

"I saw the ring you hid," he added.

Pansy remained silent. She owed no explanation to anyone.

The Strider narrowed his eyes.

Pansy shrugged and faced away to dismiss him. Leave, he did.

HIIIII!

I'm back.

THIS STORY is me taking a shot at a WIP of LotR. Since the pairing is an unusual one, let me say I'm here to surprise you. My one-shot, "Another Mistake" is complementary to this story, so you might want to check that out as well. You don't need to read that to enjoy this one, so do how ever you would like.

ALL MY WIPs WILL BE BACK UP AGAIN (just one at a time, I suppose)

Excuse me for the mistakes; I'll edit them later. I hope you liked this story.

Take care

Ydream08