magical_whimsy

A Second Chance

2009-09-25T12:57:21Z

Author/Artist: persephone33 & seegrim
Recipient: roses_at_sunset
Title: A Second Chance
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 11,987
Warnings: non-pairing character death
Genre: romance, light angst, humor, action
Summary: After Pansy's husband is killed under suspicious circumstances, her former flame, Ron Weasley is the auror assigned to protect her.
Original Prompt:1) Post-war, people dealing with the 'damage' and trying to move on with their lives. Ron and Pansy helping each other to do that and overcome something painful from the past. Also, I have a bit of a guilty love for balls and masquerades, candles and candlelight.
Author/Artist's notes: (if any) This was enjoyable for the authors to write and we hope that it's every bit as enjoyable to read!

CHAPTER ONE

Pansy stood with her arms crossed, glaring out the large, picture window that overlooked the Parkinson family cemetery. She despised most of the witches and wizards out there, all clad in black, huddled in groups under umbrellas in the pouring rain. It's just like Theodore to make us all go out in a thunderstorm, she thought, mentally cursing her late husband's name.

His name. That was the first thing that would have to go. 'Pansy Nott' had always sounded ridiculous. She was going back to her maiden name immediately, if not sooner.

She sighed deeply and pursed her perfectly painted lips. There was no getting out of this. Theodore Nott's widow would have to go to the graveside, and she'd be expected to be appropriately mournful, no matter that she was altogether indifferent to her husband's death.

No, not merely death. Murder. Her husband's murder.

That part made her frown. Theodore had been involved in all manner of seedy arrangements and deals, in none of which he'd seen fit to include Pansy. In fact, he'd not included her in much at all. He hadn't dined with her in years, slept with her in months, rarely talked to her and certainly didn't want her around to clutter up his business. Theirs had merely been a marriage of convenience, she'd found after the honeymoon was over. It had been convenient for Theodore Nott to marry Pansy Parkinson so that he'd have pureblood heirs, a family estate and access to the Parkinson vaults.

Pansy scoffed loudly. You had to sleep with a woman to get her pregnant, but her late husband had no trouble at all spending her inheritance. He'd also probably fathered all manner of little bastards with his mistresses, but Pansy didn't like to dwell on that. There were enough galleons left to keep the house, but not much else. She'd have to take a serious step back in her lifestyle if she wanted to keep up the appearances of life as she lived it.

Bastard, she thought grimly, clenching her jaw. It would be so satisfying to look up a spell to bring the sod back to life so that I could kill him properly, myself, she thought. Instead, she sighed, picked up her umbrella violently, forced her features into a semblance of sadness, and headed out into the waiting thunderstorm to bury her husband.

--

Ron watched as Pansy walked on precariously high heels through the cemetery, somehow managing to remain meticulously clean even through the muck and the mire and arriving at Nott's graveside looking as flawless as he'd ever seen her.

Inevitably, and as hard as he fought against it, his thoughts turned back to Hogwarts when the beautiful, self-assured woman before him was just Pansy Parkinson, the Slytherin seductress who sometimes spared a moment or two for him in random broom closets as she saw fit. Life hadn't been easy for either of them since leaving Hogwarts, though - his presence here at her late husband's funeral attested to that. Ron he shook his head to clear it; he wasn't here on a social call and he'd do well to remember that.

An auror for three years now, Ron had seen the assignment come down and he'd fought to assure it would be his. Apparently Warrington, a Slytherin-turned businessman-turned thug, had been the one behind Nott's murder, and now he wanted Pansy dead, too. It wasn't that Ron didn't trust his fellow aurors, but after keeping close watch on her throughout the years, he'd be damned if he stood by and hoped whoever got the case to protect her would be adequate.

He'd arrived at the cemetery early to choose a good spot in which to view the procession of mourners. A high profile event, it was rather like a who's who of the wizarding world. Ron watched as every Slytherin from his year that remained arrived and bristled as even Warrington himself showed up, but Ron knew Pansy wasn't in danger from him, not today. His presence today was simply to keep up appearances. The intelligence report from the Ministry was that there was something Warrington wanted from Pansy, and that was probably the only thing keeping her alive.

Thankfully, the service was brief, and in that short time it was obvious to Ron that Pansy wasn't a grief-stricken widow. For some reason, the thought made him smile. He waited until the last mourner had offered his condolences to Pansy and then he made his way forward with a scowl on his face as he watched the casket being lowered into the ground, containing the earthly remains of a man who'd done nothing during his time on Earth to earn the love of a woman like Pansy.

--

She'd dabbed at her bone dry eyes with a lace handkerchief, she'd looked somewhat sad (she hoped - what she actually felt might be better construed by the word bored), she'd nodded and made the expected noises about her departed bastard of a husband, shook hands with his despicable business associates, and refrained from applauding when they finally put his body in the earth. Pansy thought she'd behaved admirably and intended to make her way back up to the house and reward herself with some of Theodore's store of a fantastic vintage of elf-made wine, one that he'd never allowed her to touch. He'd always said that he was saving it for a special occasion.

Pansy chuckled to herself as the crowd dispersed. If there were a more special occasion in her life, Pansy couldn't think what it might be.

The rain let up a bit as the pops of apparition sounded around her, intermingling with the retreating thunder. Pansy felt the muscles in her shoulders that had been clenched tight throughout the afternoon slowly begin to unwind at long last. She lowered her umbrella and let the last few drops of rain splash on her cheeks.

Peace.

A smile played on her lips as she tilted her face towards the clouds, feeling at ease for the first time in years. She remained like that for a moment, until something in her made her spine straighten and the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

Someone was watching her.

Nonchalantly, she shook out and closed her umbrella, looking around surreptitiously. There in the retreating crowd, one face was looking back at her.

Suddenly, it was if all the air had been sucked out of this particular graveyard. Her first thought was that he looked good, better even than she remembered. He was taller, if that was even possible, and broader, but his blue eyes were the same, watching her intently, making her forget herself, who she was and how she ought to behave.

Her second thought was, What in the world is Ronald Weasley doing at my husband's funeral? A very small part of Pansy - the one that she only let out to play very occasionally when no one else was around - that part of her hoped that Ron had heard of Theodore's demise, had remembered their times together as fondly as she did, wanted to correct the mistake of not wanting to be with her back then, and had come to whisk her away from her unhappiness and take her to be with him.

She very nearly smiled. Checking that as she saw his auror's badge even from far away, Pansy chided herself. No knight in shining armor was going to save her from her life. Not her, not Pansy Nott.

Damn it. Parkinson, she thought irritably. Pansy Parkinson.

Gingerly moving a stray hair blown out of place by the wind, Pansy straightened her shoulders and closed the distance between them. They sized each other up for a moment before either one of them spoke. Pansy was the first one to break the silence.

"Funny, Weasley. Of all the people I expected to mourn Theodore, it never occurred to me to add you to the list," she said, tilting her head to the side. If it was possible, he was more handsome than he'd been at school and she had a flash of his large hands at the small of her back, pulling her close, his breath hot on her ear.

Willing herself out of that particular memory, she finished, "Here to pay your respects? Or for some other pressing business?"

Ron pulled himself up to his full height, trying to act in a manner befitting a Ministry representative and not the boy who'd fancied her at Hogwarts. "I'm actually here on official business, Mrs. Nott--Pansy," he answered. "But I'm sorry for your loss all the same," he said perfunctorily.

"Mmm," she replied, acknowledging his sympathy. "And it's Parkinson again. No use keeping the name if he isn't here." She glanced at the caretaker, now shoveling dirt on the open grave and fought back a shiver. "So what's your business, then? I haven't done anything. I wasn't made a part of anything that he did."

"You are my business," he answered evasively before continuing, "and if you're done here, we should go inside. We need to talk and this isn't the best place for it."

Pansy blinked several times, willing her face to remain impassive. She was having another memory flash, this one of being crushed against a well muscled chest, of cloaks discarded on the floor, of shirts untucked and ties undone, of touches and sighs and kisses and Ron whispering her name into the dark.

Clearing her throat and raising an eyebrow in his direction, she gave a curt nod as she forced herself back to the present. "Conversation," she mused aloud. "You weren't ever a big talker if I remember correctly, Weasley."

He shrugged. "Still not, but there are things to be discussed." He held out his arm to her and immediately upon her linking her arm through his, he apparated them to the front steps of Parkinson manor. "If you'll take us the rest of the way?"

Pansy gazed at him intently, but his face remained impassive. Resolutely, she took down the wards to the house and they entered, an elf immediately appearing to take their wet cloaks. She led him down a maze of corridors to her favorite sitting room, the one untainted by any memories with Theo, and poured them both a healthy amount of amber liquid in cut crystal tumblers. "I'm dying of anticipation, Weasley," she said blandly. "Do tell me why you're here."

Wishing he actually had enough nerve to be here on a social call, he was chagrined over the fact that it was the job that had given him the courage to face her again. "I've been assigned to protect you, Pansy," he said. "The man who killed your husband? Warrington? He wants you dead, too." He winced as he said it, but still, she needed to know.

Pansy downed her drink in one go, wincing at the scorching feeling as it burned down her throat. So he wasn't here to sweep her off her feet. That figured. Pansy sighed and poured herself another, placing the decanter on the table between them. It appeared that her life with Theodore wasn't quite yet over. Bastard. Haunting her from the grave, metaphorically speaking, was just like him.

As she sat in the chair opposite him, she crossed her legs and lazily rested her chin in a hand. "I can't imagine what he'd want with me. As I said, Theodore didn't include me in any part of his life." Sighing, she continued. "And if one of my husband's friends want me dead? I'm afraid protection from you is a complete waste of your time. If Warrington wants me gone, I'm as good as dead already," she said simply.

Ron snorted. "It's nice to see you haven't changed any," he remarked. "You still think the world of me, obviously." It was just like her to remind him that he'd never be good enough for her. Ironically, that was the one thing he didn't need to be reminded of.

Picking up his glass, he sipped from it slowly even as he watched Pansy finish her second drink. "Our theory is that you have information he wants. You say that Nott didn't include you in any of his business dealings?" He continued without waiting for her answer. "It must be something else then. I'll need to perform a thorough search. With your permission, of course."

Her first instinct was to work her seductive charms and ask just how thorough a 'search.' After all, it had been months since any man had touched her. However, not wishing to feel the sting of rejection from this particular man, she bit her lip to keep from speaking. Finally, she shrugged. "I don't care. If that's what you want to do, I, of course, bow to the Ministry's will," she said with a sardonic smile.

"Thank you." He felt like an intruder in her home and he chided himself thoroughly, wondering exactly what he had expected. That she'd go running straight into his arms? Steeling himself for her reaction, he told her exactly what his protection of her entail. "I will keep you safe, but it'll be a disruption to your daily life. You see, I won't be leaving, Pansy, not until the threat is gone."

"Pardon?" she asked dumbly. "You aren't leaving?"

Setting his still half-full drink down, he nodded. "I'm not leaving. I know this might be awkward, but it's the best way." As he talked, he tried not to concentrate on her legs and the way they stretched on forever or her full, pouty lips and the way they had felt against his so long ago. "So from this moment on, with very few exceptions, wherever you go, I go."

Before she caught herself and her Slytherin training kicked in, a small, displeased look of dismay showed on her face. "You've got to be joking," she murmured under her breath. Of all the aurors the Ministry had to offer, they sent him. "Will it always be you?" she asked tentatively. "Or will some other arse be traipsing through my home with no notice whatsoever?"

Arching an eyebrow sharply he asked, "Is my presence that distasteful to you?" He didn't mean it at all, but he offered, "If you don't want me here, I'm sure a replacement could be dispatched. I don't want you to suffer needlessly."

"Yes, I'm sure you're so concerned with my suffering," she scoffed. "It always did make the top of your list." As uncomfortable as it would surely be to have him around her for an undetermined amount of time, it would be worse with another auror, one that she truly loathed, like Potter, or worse yet, Granger. Sighing with resignation, she rose and gestured for him to follow. "If you're staying here, you'll need a place to sleep. Follow me."

CHAPTER TWO

A week into the assignment, Pansy and Ron had fallen into a working relationship that while not exactly comfortable, wasn't unpleasant, either. Pansy had been supervising his search of the manor, and while he'd not found anything yet that would explain why Pansy was in danger, she remained safe, and that was Ron's priority. Finally though, the frustration of not finding anything got to him and he began to question Pansy more intently.

"I've searched his office, the library, all the common areas," he said, "and found nothing. I've missing something; I know it." Hesitant to bring up the one area he'd not searched so far, he soldiered on and asked, "What about your bedroom?"

"What about my bedroom?" she snapped. "I know this might be hard for a blissfully married man to imagine, considering I'm such a likeable person, but Theodore didn't ever enter my bedroom. He didn't have cause to," she explained, her face set in hard lines. "You're welcome to go in there, but he sure as hell didn't." She marched down the hall and stood beside her closed bedroom door, arms crossed and a petulant look on her face. "Just go in," she relented, softening a bit. "I don't care."

Ron followed her at a distance, surprised by her outburst and amused by the fact that she assumed he was married, and blissfully so. "I didn't mean to offend you in any way. I'm just at a loss. We're running out of places to search." He watched her as he stood with his hand on the doorknob. "And I'm not married, but that's not important. Your bedroom?"

"Go ahead," she said, trying to sound as if she didn't care that he was about to set foot in her private sanctuary. Following him in, she leaned against the wall, watching him carefully as he canvassed her bedroom. She made a show of studying her manicure and commented, "Not married? What happened to Granger? After your season-long camping trip in the wilds of Britain and Scotland, I thought she'd finally dragged you to the altar."

"Hermione?" he said, his voice rising a few octaves. "No, she's most definitely not my type." He searched her room top to bottom, about to move on when he spotted a slight irregularity in the molding by the window seat. "What's this?" he whispered, mostly to himself. Tapping the spot with his wand, a drawer opened, revealing a Pensieve inside. "Pansy? Is this yours?"

Her attention, still lingering on Granger's not being his type, snapped to Ron's hands. "What in the bloody hell is that?" she asked irritably, knowing full well that it must be Theo's. He couldn't come in to see her, but he could enter her room to hide things that might get her killed. Bastard. Glad you're dead, you bloody annoying berk of a man, she thought, anger resonating through her thoughts.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Ron managed a smile. "And here I'd thought I'd found the place you hide all your secrets. Too bad," he said regretfully before making eye contact with her. "At least we know what they want so badly."

"I don't have any secrets, Weasley," she said, prodding the silvery contents of the Pensieve with her wand. "My life is an open book."

--

The contents of that dratted stone bowl had been everything that she knew they'd be and more; her late husband was more than just a bastard. He was a criminal, a murderer and did unspeakable things to Muggle and wizard alike. The world was definitely a better place now that he was gone. And even if she hadn't seen the contents and memories, Warrington wouldn't know that; somehow the information that the Pensieve had been found had already hit the gossip rags. Ron had assured her that it didn't change a thing, that he'd be staying until he knew she was safe.

For her part, Pansy was horrified at what he'd seen. This was Ron Weasley, one of the best people she'd ever known, who had stood next to her in the silvery grey memories of the Pensive and watched as her husband did things that turned her stomach. After that, she decided that avoidance was best. He had to be uncomfortable around her, if not outright repulsed, and so for a little more than a week she'd managed to stay out of his line of sight. She stayed in her room, and the elves brought trays, assuring her that the Ministry wizard was being fed, as well.

They also said that he slept restlessly.

Pansy stewed on that point for quite a while. The bed in his room was the most comfortable that could be found, so she knew it couldn't be that. She surmised that he was upset with the fact that his life was being interrupted for the likes of her, and decided that it wouldn't kill her to do a little something nice for him, just to help him sleep. In the late evening, she crept into the kitchen and made up a tray for him, with a mild sleeping potion, a glass of warm milk, biscuits and a pot of tea, and took it to his room personally.

Standing outside, she levitated the tray while she gave the door a rap. This is completely stupid, she thought, turning to go. He doesn't want anything from me, doesn't even want to see me.

He'd finally settled into a fitful sleep only to have it interrupted by a knock on his door. He threw back the covers in a hurry, praying it wasn't an elf alerting him to another attempt on the wards he'd set in addition to the ones already in place on the manor. Pulling the door open even as he reached for his wand, he was confused to see Pansy herself there with a tea tray.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hand, he barked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she answered quickly. "Everything's fine. Bernard just told me that you weren't sleeping and so I brought you some things that might help you rest." She shook her head. "But I've woken you."

"Yeah, you've 'woken' me," he said, "and scared the bloody hell out of me in the process." He threw his wand onto the bed behind him and turned back to look at her, an incredulous look on his face. "So after a week of ignoring me, I'm to believe that you care about my sleep?" he scoffed. "This is rich, even coming from you."

Never go against your instincts, you stupid girl, she told herself sullenly. "Excuse me," Pansy said to him, her voice cold as she avoided looking at his bare chest and low slung pyjama pants. "I was only trying to help. There's no need to be a bastard," she said, and turned on her heel, moving quickly in the other direction.

His eyes widened and he called after her, "I don't need your kind of help. We bastards do just fine on our own." Turning abruptly, he slammed the door before realizing he'd left he tea tray in the hall and the biscuits on it had looked pretty good. Opening the door just wide enough, he pulled the tray in, closing the door softly behind him this time. Looking over the contents of the tray, he cringed. It was obvious that thought had been put into its arrangement, that she'd wanted to make him more comfortable. "Terrific. I am a bastard."

--

"I need to go to the Ministry today," Ron announced one morning over breakfast. They hadn't spoken much since the incident with the tea tray, mostly making small talk on inconsequential topics or discussing business. "You'll need to come along with me."

"Oh, I will?" She raised an eyebrow at his bossy tone and said, "I'd rather not go to the Ministry. Perhaps while you're there I can go to Diagon and get some things I need. There are purchases I'd rather the elves not make for me."

Ron tried not to show his frustration and finished chewing his mouthful of bacon carefully before replying. "I can understand you not wanting to go with me, but I'm sorry; this isn't up for debate." He met Pansy's eyes, trying to convey the seriousness of the situation.

"What exactly do you mean, it's not up for debate?" Pansy asked, an irritated edge to her voice. "I'm not going there. I'm more likely to get cursed there than in Heliotrope's buying new knickers," she reasoned.

A sigh escaped him, and Ron put down his coffee cup and turned his full attention to Pansy. "Until you are out of danger, I am not leaving your side. I know this must be frustrating, but it's my job, and this is how things must be done. I have to go to the Ministry, so you do, too."

"No."

"No?" Only the fact that he had a mostly full plate of food in front of him kept him from dropping his forehead to the table. "Yes. You will," he said firmly.

"Am I under arrest?"

"Of course not, don't be ridiculous."

"Then you can't force me to go," she said, sipping from her cup.

"Do you want to die? Are you really that stubborn?"

"I'm not going to die," she said off-handedly. "And Weasley, don't even speak to me about stubborn. You're the most stubborn man in Britain."

"I'm stubborn?" he growled. "You make me insane. Do you know that? Barmy. Mental. Stark raving mad," he elaborated, throwing his hands up. "I have to go to the Ministry. Please, Pansy, be agreeable."

"Don't pin your mental illness on me," she argued. "You've been that way for years."

He dropped his head into his hands, pulling on his hair in an attempt not to stand up and start throwing things. "You are, by far, the most difficult woman I have ever met."

"Why put yourself through it, then? It was easy enough for you to leave me the first time around," she snapped. "Why not just do it again?"

Lifting his head, he stared at her in disbelief. "You're bringing up seventh year, again? I thought you understood I had no choice in the matter. I had to go with Harry and Hermione. You know that."

"Yes," she agreed. She knew she should let the topic drop, but she'd been stewing about it for weeks, the subject brought back to life by his mere presence in her home. Continuing against her better judgment, she said, "But then once you came back? You never even looked in my direction again."

He began to speak, but then he snapped his jaws shut. Trying again, he said, "Oh, I looked. Believe me, I looked. But do you know what I saw? I saw a Pansy Parkinson who wanted nothing to do with me. So I moved on just like you had."

She stared back at him, holding his gaze for several moments. It had broken her heart when he'd left, and then hurt even worse when he'd become attached at the hip to Granger and Potter upon his return. Remembering that pain, she shook her head. "It never would have worked between us, anyway. I'm clearly not what you needed."

"If you say so," he said with a shrug, not wanting to discuss this any further. He wasn't sure what Pansy meant, why she was trying to blame him for what hadn't happened between them, but if he started down that path again he'd go mad. "I'll make a deal with you," he offered. "How about you come to the Ministry with me and then we'll make a stop where you want on the way home?"

She frowned. "Do you promise? This isn't just a trick to get me to do what you want?"

Clearly insulted, he asked, "When have I ever lied to you?"

"I-" She fell short, blinking a few times, unable to recall ever having heard a falsehood come out of his mouth. "Never," she said softly. "You've never."

"And I'm not going to start now," he declared.

--

The trip to the Ministry had been uneventful with the exception of a few glares in Pansy's direction, but Ron had easily discouraged them by returning them with poisoned looks of his own. He didn't understand why people were so bigoted. She'd suffered enough for the choices her parents had made, for what she'd been forced to do. It was senseless to perpetuate the bad will and ill treatment, in his opinion, anyway.

Stopping by Pansy's favorite store in Diagon on the way back from the Ministry, Ron was enjoying himself a bit too much, acting as more like Pansy's personal assistant than the auror charged with guarding her.

True to his word, he hadn't put up a fight when she'd told him where she wanted to go and he found himself following her around the racks, trying not to be obvious as he watched her intently in what was clearly her element.

Pansy held a red dress up to her body while it was still on the hanger, spun around to the mirror, and gave her reflection a critical gaze. It was expensive, but she hadn't gone shopping in quite a while, and she wasn't about to wear widow's weeds for the rest of her life. Turning to Ron, she solicited his opinion. "Well? What do you think?"

Ron was silent as he pictured Pansy in the red dress, a slow smile spreading across his face, and he could see himself slowly undressing her, the dress tangled with his clothing on the floor of her bedroom. "It's nice," he said, his voice a bit lower than usual.

"Seriously, Weasley. Don't hurt yourself with the enthusiasm." She moved toward back of the store to try it on, but looked back at him over her shoulder. "Am I allowed to go in the dressing room by myself or will you need to guard me in there, as well?" She undid the top button of her blouse, wondering if his seeming resolve to be unattracted to her could be broken. It might be worth a shot, she thought idly, undoing another button. Would break up the monotony, anyway.

"It might be the prudent thing to do," he answered, fighting hard to keep the grin off of his face. "You know, stranger things have happened."

"And what would I get out of the bargain?" she asked, backing towards the door of the dressing room as he followed. "You get to see me in my altogether," she said softly, another button going, "but what to I receive in return? Besides protection from imaginary attackers by the Ministry's finest?"

He was fighting his resurfacing feelings for Pansy with everything he possessed, but he was losing, and fast. "I don't know," Ron said, following her into the dressing room and closing the door behind them, "is there something specific you'd like?" He smiled at her, knowing this wasn't the time or the place to be acting like this, but helpless to resist as she undid yet another button, exposing more of her than he'd seen since Hogwarts.

"You smiling at me is a good place to start," she said, laying the blouse over a chair. She approached him slowly, so near they were almost touching; she could feel his breath stir her hair, and she reached over his shoulder to get the dress off the clothing hook behind him. "Hold this for me?" she asked, the corner of her own lips lifting in a smile.

Clearing his throat, he took the dress from her. "I'd love to."

She reached around behind her and slid the zip down on her skirt, letting it fall to the floor in a puddle. This had always been one of Ron's favorite things, if memory served her correctly, and she was rewarded with his appreciative gaze raking over her body, now clad only in bits of silk and lace. Holding out her hand expectantly, she raised an eyebrow.

His breath already coming quicker, he took her by the hand and pulled her to him, his hands running over the smooth skin of her back as his lips met hers. It was surreal, and convinced he was dreaming, Ron took full advantage of the moment, pressing her back against the wall as he devoured her mouth with little finesse and even less patience. These weeks of watching her and not being able to touch had worn his nerves thin and it was as if something snapped and he couldn't have her soon enough.

Pansy's breath left her in a rush, and she moaned lightly as he kissed down her neck. "If I'd known that all I had to do was take my clothes off, I could have done that earlier, you know."

"Don't talk," he said, cutting off any possible reply with a kiss. He didn't want to be reminded he was doing something he really shouldn't be. He tore at his shirt, wanting to feel her skin against his, not able to get close enough as quickly as he wanted to. Finally freed from his top, he lifted Pansy against him, gasping into her mouth as she wrapped her legs tightly around him.

Pansy's hand went to the buckle on his trousers and as she was sliding the leather through the belt loops, a sharp rap came at the door. The attendant chirruped, "Miss Parkinson, do you need any help in there?"

Pansy bit her bottom lip and looked into Ron's blue eyes. She placed one leg on the floor and then the other, and tucking her hair behind her ear called, "No, I'm fine, thanks."

It wasn't easy, but he managed to take his hands off her and quickly stole one last kiss. Picking the dress up where it'd been tossed onto the floor, he said, "You should try this on. We need to go."

She pushed her arms into her blouse and hurriedly buttoned it up. "I don't want it. Leave it there." She cast a sidelong glance his way, and bent to pick up her discarded skirt. "Broom closets and dressing rooms," she said sarcastically. "Is that what turns you on? When no one else can possibly see?"

"Does that bother you?" he asked, pulling his shirt back over his head. "Do you want people to see?" He looked at her and gave her an exaggerated wink. "I didn't think you got off on that, but hey, life is short and all..." Shaking his head as he made sure his appearance was all right he asked, "What do you expect from me, Pansy? Let's just go."

Not being embarrassed of me would be nice. Pansy thought, irritated and confused. "I don't expect anything from you," she said aloud, all her previous emotion and passion cleared from her expression. "I don't even expect you to keep me alive, or whatever it is you're supposed to be doing," she said flatly as she pushed her way out of the dressing room and strode out of the shop.

"Why do I even bother?" he grumbled as he left the dressing room, careful to avoid the stare of the attendant.

As Ron opened the door to the street, several things happened at once. A burly man in a black cloak grabbed Pansy by the arms, she screamed, and a hex went flying by Ron's head, just barely missing him, shattering the door frame where it struck.

For Pansy, it all seemed to happen in still frames. She heard the tinkle of the shop bell as she forcefully pushed it open, the sunlight assaulted her eyes and she squinted, then a squeezing pain around her neck and fetid breath of the attacker invaded her senses. She heard herself cry out in pain, and then scream in earnest as the hooded man pointed his wand at Ron.

Pansy's thoughts became sort of detached. So this was what he was fussing about, she thought idly as the man dragged her along the cobblestoned alley behind the herb shop. Her neck hurt, and it was hard to draw a breath, but she fought against the spinning sensation of losing consciousness. The arse had used the full body bind, and was dragging her by her neck, so she only had to wait for the curse to wear off before she could turn around and kick him in the stones. When he was down with that, then she'd use a curse that was really impressive. I do hope I live that long, she mused, simultaneously hoping that Ron had been able to dodge the curse and harboring a tiny hope that he'd get her out of this mess.

Racing around the corner, wand at the ready, Ron could only think of what would happen if he didn't get Pansy back safe and unharmed. Pushing those thoughts away, he continued on until the man's back came into view. His eyes tight, his face set in a look of concentration, he sent a stunning spell towards the man and kept running, his sights set on Pansy.

In the next moments, she felt as if the back of her head was set aflame, and a sticky warmth spread down the stocking of her left leg. Her neck was released, and then she was free of the bind, Ron kneeling down to her cradling her head gingerly in his hands.

She blinked a few times, trying to clear her head; the edges of the world were going black. Finally finding her voice, she asked, "Ron?"

"Yes, it's me. You're safe."

"Pay close attention," she slurred, "because I'm about to tell you something that I've never told anyone else."

Confused, he scooped her up into his arms. "Pans? What?"

"I was wrong. You do need to protect me," she murmured quietly before the blackness closed in and engulfed her entirely.

--

It had only been a bump to the head and a scraped knee, and the healer had assured both Ron and Pansy that she'd be fine in a day or so, but Ron hadn't been able to forgive himself for putting Pansy in harm's way. He'd known that going out in public would put her in danger, yet he'd given into her, wanting to make her happy. It made him sick to think of what would have happened if he'd been too late. He wasn't going to make anymore mistakes on this job, especially not any that would cost Pansy her life.

She sat propped up in bed, surrounded by pillows, aware that he was sitting across the room, watching her with a penitent expression. Exhaling loudly, she reprimanded him. "I wish you'd quit looking at me like that, Ron. I had bigger cuts when I was a child," she said dismissively.

"That's clearly untrue." He stood, tired of sitting and began to pace. "Can I get you anything? Something to eat? Drink? A better auror, perhaps?"

"Is there a better auror?" she asked, studying her manicure.

"How can you even ask that as you lie there with a head wound," he asked incredulously.

"Any other auror but you would have given me the head wound," she said knowingly. "Tell me, who did you brass off to get this assignment?"

He mumbled something quietly and hoped she'd let it slide.

"Pardon?" she asked, sitting up a little straighter so that she could hear what he had to say. "I didn't quite catch that last bit."

"I asked for this assignment." He met her eyes and to his chagrin, he could feel his cheeks growing warm. He tried to hold back the river of honesty but it was no use. "I fought for it."

Pansy raised her eyebrow and a smile brushed her lips. "So you want to be here."

"Well. Yes."

She patted the covers beside her and smiled a bit. "Then what are you doing all the way across the room?" she inquired. "I could finish what I started in the dressing room."

He paused, not certain how to answer. "I want to Pansy, trust me. But there's one thing I want more right now and that's to keep you safe. We've seen what happens when I'm not concentrating solely on that."

She threw back the covers and pushed out of bed, irritated, hurt, and possibly a bit desperate for some male companionship. The fact that he was the male she would have chosen above all others was beside the point. Pansy walked over to her dressing table and began yanking a brush though her hair, trying to unclench her teeth so that she could speak. "So... what?" she asked, biting the words out. "Are you just going to follow me around from room to room? Watch me sleep? Pretend like this afternoon never happened?"

"That was the plan, yes," he said, nodding.

Pansy blinked stupidly, looking not directly at him, but at his reflection in the mirror. "I cannot believe that I'm this stupid. That I have let this happen to me twice," she said, her hairbrush gaining momentum as she brushed harder. "At school I was perhaps a bit young and naive." She met his eyes, her jaw set. "But now I'm really old enough to know better."

Ron winced at the force at which she tugged the brush through her hair. "You're upset with me because I'd rather keep you safe than shag you?" he demanded. "Wait. You said twice. What have I done to you? Again?"

"Nothing," she spat out, tossing her brush on the table and standing. Nothing except make me want you, give me a taste and then take it away. "You haven't done anything to me, Weasley. I'm fine. I'm Pansy Parkinson. Nothing if not resilient."

CHAPTER THREE

Ron sat with Pansy in her sitting room while she opened the daily correspondence. He'd received notice from the Ministry that they were getting closer to convicting Warrington and informed her that he didn't think she'd have to put up with him underfoot much longer. He'd expected her to laugh or even smile, but she'd simply thanked him quietly.

Going through correspondence was a thankless task; Pansy loathed having to adhere to social niceties, but she had received several hundred bereavement and sympathy cards, and she had to answer them. She'd be blacklisted from the social register if she didn't, and she certainly couldn't afford being shunned any more than she already was.

A lemon yellow letter caught her eye, and the letter opener flashed in the candlelight as she deftly opened the envelope. Her face lit up. It was an invitation to the Malfoy's winter masquerade ball. She waved the yellow parchment in the air to get his attention. "Guess where we're going?" she asked happily.

"Where?" he asked politely, with the intention of going nowhere.

"A masquerade. A party at Malfoy Manor. It's in Wiltshire," she said, standing and handing him the invite. "And the costumes are gorgeous. I'm sure that we've one that'll fit you, and the food, music, guest list; all sublime. It's the social event of the season."

He felt a headache coming on and he pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "I'm sorry you'll have to miss it then," he said softly.

She laughed, the rich sound echoing off the tall ceilings. "Of course I won't have to miss it! That's just silly." Her face fell as she regarded his sober expression. "I won't have to miss it," she repeated, more serious this time.

"I can't allow it. It's too risky. Hate me if you will, but I won't take a chance like that with your life, Pansy." He looked at her pleadingly. "Please understand that."

"But I'll be in costume! she reasoned. "No one will even know who I am."

"We're wizards, Pansy. There are ways. It's not safe."

"I haven't missed this ball since I was eleven years old," she scoffed. "You could come with me," she said, and more quietly, "I'd like it if you came with me."

It hurt to say no, but he couldn't think of the alternative and feel good about it. "Don't you think I'd like to be able to say yes?" he asked. "That I'd love to actually be with you for once in some capacity other than the boy you meet in a broom closet or the man whose job it is to protect you?"

Pansy's teeth clenched at his words even as her stomach flipped at the tone of his voice; soft, insistent, caring, wistful. She inhaled deeply and took the invitation from his hands. "I wouldn't presume to know what you'd 'love to do,'" she said coldly. Making her way to the doorway of the sitting room, her hand was on the doorknob before she looked back at him. "And just because you've said no does not make a bit of difference to me, Weasley. I'm attending that masque."

"And I'll be here to stop you," he said matter of factly.

Her smile curved wickedly. "Weasley, I look forward to seeing you try."

--

Though neither of them spoke of it again, there was tension in the house regarding the upcoming date of the Malfoy Masquerade. Even so, Pansy accepted Ron's presence in her house with aplomb, though it seemed that she wasn't quite ready to let their little dressing room encounter die. Her frosty veneer melted away, and she openly smiled, flirted and touched him casually, sometimes more sensually; a fingertip stroked the back of his hand, her hand grazed his arm as she passed by him in the corridor. So far, her work had yielded no results, but if Pansy Parkinson could be called anything, it was tenacious. She would not give up easily.

The night that she was supposed to have gone to the Masquerade, she looked up to find him in the doorway to her personal sitting room, adjoining her bedroom. It was plain that he wanted to say something, and it irritated her somewhat that he still wasn't comfortable enough with her to spit it out.

"What is it, Weasley? Bored? Need something to do?"

"I wanted to apologize." He looked up from staring at his feet. "I know you wanted to go, and I'm sorry."

Pansy smiled and stood, stretching languorously, like a cat. She approached him slowly, telling herself that she was going to give it one more try.

"Weasley?"

"Yeah?"

She walked around him, allowing her hand to trail along the line of his waistband and feeling him tense beneath her touch. "I have an idea of something that we can do," she suggested slowly. "It's something that will pass the time, and will make all that boredom slip away. We used to while away the long hours in a broom closet instead of doing our prefect patrols, and now," she whispered, her lips close to his ear, her hot breath making his breath ragged, "we have a bed."

She drew back and looked at him, her large dark eyes glowing with want. "Nothing will happen to me if you give in, Ron. No one else is here and no one will have to know." Her palms spread wide along the planes of his chest and she tiptoed to press a kiss to his jawline. Her voice was tremulous as she whispered, "Please."

"Pansy," he answered, his voice rough with desire, "let me do my job. I can't protect you and want you at the same time." Her hands and lips were hot on his skin his fingers twitched with the need to touch her.

"I don't need to be protected right now," she said, pressing herself against him. "I need you."

It was all too much. Her hands now on his shoulders, her chest pressed against his, her voice low and insistent as she pushed him towards the door of her bedroom, who was he to say no? That's all he seemed to be saying to her lately, anyway. Maybe this single 'yes' wouldn't hurt.

Giving up all pretenses of trying to resist, Ron tangled his fingers in Pansy's hair, bringing her lips to his in a fierce kiss, releasing all his pent up frustration as he reacquainted himself with her body. He pulled away only to remove his shirt and kick off his trousers and within seconds had her back in his arms, impatient in his attempts to remove her clothing.

"Lie back, she said, pushing him gently to her enormous bed. I've got something you're going to really like."

"I like the sound of that," he answered, his eyes shining with excitement.

She kissed him, easing him back onto the pillows and straddled him, her knees gripping the outside of his hips suggestively. A shadow crossed her face, and she paused for a moment, and looked almost apologetic.

Ron's brow furrowed and he asked, "What's wrong, Pans?"

"I want you. Have for weeks, and it seems a shame that I have to let my one opportunity go to waste."

Before he could respond, she'd charmed thin nylon ropes around his wrists and ankles, attaching him securely to the bed. Dipping her head to kiss him once more, she pouted. "You taste the same as I remember."

"What's wrong with that? What's going on?" Ron asked, confused.

"I told you. I'm going to that masquerade," she said, climbing off the bed. "And I wish you were reasonable enough to go with me. She trailed a finger down his thigh, admiring how long and lean his legs were. "Or better yet, have amazing sex and then go to the party." Flinching at his expression, she said, "Uh-oh. Has the mood passed?"

Pulling against the restraints, Ron could only manage one not so very coherent sentence. "You are going to be so sorry when I get out of this, Pansy Parkinson. You better hope Warrington catches up with you before I do," he growled.

Pansy frowned. "Now that was uncalled for, Weasley." She disappeared into her closet and came out with a rather large bag, and slung it over her shoulder. "I shouldn't be gone too long. And even if I am, the charms will wear off in two hours or so. I do hope you can forgive me, and if you choose to, I promise to make it up to you when I get home. Anything you want." Blowing him a kiss, she winked, waved and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

--

Ron had cursed more in the last twenty minutes than he had in his entire life up to this point, and finally one of the elves arrived in Pansy's bedroom. It had refused to help him, of course, until Ron pointed out that its mistress could be in grave danger. That, and the words 'stuffed' and 'mounted' had seemed to help a great deal as well.

Arriving at the Malfoy Manor, Ron tried to enter and was stopped by a very large man at the front door. "You'll need an invitation and a costume, sir," the man sneered. Even their help sneers?" Ron thought. Lovely.

He rolled his eyes in annoyance and flashed his auror badge. "I believe this covers the invitation."

"Yes, yes sir, it does. Please step inside and we'll get you fitted with a costume."

Walking out of the coat room, Ron felt utterly ridiculous wearing a black mask and cape. He charmed his hair a more ordinary brown instead of the tell-tale Weasley red so he could at least fit in while feeling silly. Looking around, he wondered what disguise Pansy had chosen for this evening. After a few minutes, he was growing anxious, and began weaving in and out of the crowd of people, concentrating on the women who matched as many of Pansy's features as he could easily see.

And then he saw her. Long, trim legs that seemed to go on forever, the confident way she held herself, and when she turned he saw those lips lined in red that had been featured in his dreams for years now. She was talking with someone, but it didn't matter. He walked over, bowed slightly, and said, "Would you care for a dance, my lady?"

"No," she answered curtly, scanning the room behind him. She looked nervous, even wary.

"Won't you reconsider?" he asked softly. "I've searched the entire room for the prettiest woman, and now that I've found you, I'd be honored if you'd spare me just one dance."

Her expression went from annoyed to... less annoyed and she scanned the room once more, finally giving him a cursory look. "Alright. One dance. Then I really have to be off."

He nodded and took one of her hands in his and led her out to an opening on the dance floor. "Nice party," he said, placing his other hand on her side. "Why would you want to leave right in the middle of it?"

"Oh, I left some things unfinished at home. I should be getting back," Pansy said absently. He spun her in his arms and she looked at him for the first time. He was handsome. Charming. Familiar. "You're quite a good dancer."

"Thank you," Ron said sincerely. "You really don't have to be leaving so soon, do you?" he asked, letting his facade slip a bit and wondering if he was still unknown to Pansy with just a simple mask and hair color hiding his identity.

"Why?" she asked, amused, but distracted by looking about the room for would-be assassins. "Do you plan on sweeping me off my feet this evening?"

Ron looked down into Pansy's soft brown eyes, the floating candelabras casting off a soft glow, and he was certain that even with part of her beauty obscured beneath a mask, he'd never seen her look as lovely as she did in that instant. "That was my plan, yes." He ran a finger down her spine and then back up, repeating the movement, each time dipping his finger a little lower. "It'd be a pity to leave and wreck my plans as they are, wouldn't you agree?"

Pansy stilled at his words, at his voice. This was ridiculous. She must have had Ron on the brain to think this man sounded like him. She was fairly certain that the charms she'd used were still holding her favorite redhead securely on her bed, awaiting her return. Really, she shouldn't have come to the party at all; it was all stubbornness and to prove a point - that she could. But this man couldn't be Ron. Could he?

Gazing into the man's eyes, she asked softly, "And what are your plans?"

He gave a heartbreaking smile and dipped his head toward hers, and in the instant before their lips touched, Pansy knew. When his mouth met hers, she was certain; Ron tasted like no other. He was spicy-sweet, mint and pepper, and as his tongue swept though her mouth she gasped, moaned and involuntarily clung to him more tightly. Kissing Ron always made her pulse race, her skin flush, and the yearning deep in her core nearly unbearable.

Reluctantly, she pulled away and gazed at him more intently than she had before. "I don't like your hair like that," she said, sighing.

"Well, the alternative was to shave my head," he answered, giving a frustrated sigh of his own. "Why'd you do that, Pansy? Don't you realize the danger you're in?" He steered her away from the crowded dance floor and off over to the double doors leading out to the terrace.

She remained speculatively silent for a moment. "Honestly, I don't know. I've never liked rules. Didn't ever want someone telling me what I could and couldn't do." She laughed mirthlessly. "Don't go into the forbidden forest? Let's go exploring. They tell me 'absolutely no women allowed without a Mark?' I'm at the center of the group." She leaned on the balcony and looked into the darkness. "It's why Theo and I stayed married. He didn't care."

Scowling, Ron answered, "That's also why he's dead, Pansy. He was an idiot." Moving to stand behind her, he put his arms on either side of her, his hands gripping the railing tightly. "Can't you just trust me? It's not like I get off on telling you what to do." He took a deep breath in to calm himself, and then ducking his head, he kissed the side of her neck, lingering there for a moment. "I just found you again. Why would you want to take yourself away from me? And permanently?"

"So," she began tentatively, shivering at the sensation of his lips on her neck. "You aren't brassed off with me? You're not going to chuck me in a Ministry holding cell for tying you up and leaving?"

"No, I'm still upset," he assured her, even as his ministrations to her neck directly conflicted with his words, "but the Ministry won't be involved. I think this is a case where turnabout is most definitely fair play. Except I won't be leaving. I'll stick around after the teasing to see the job done." He turned her in his arms and pulled her tight against his chest. "So what do you think? Ready to go, or would you like to stay at Malfoy's party longer?"

The promise in his eyes made her knees weak and a yearning she hadn't felt in years pool deep within her. Her lips curved in a smile and she took her mask off, cast it aside, leaned up and brushed her lips against his. If I'm not careful, this is something I could get used to, she thought, pressing her mouth more firmly against his. A soft, sighing moan escaped her as she felt him respond, and she curled her arms around him and ran her fingers through the fine hairs at the nape of his neck. Between kisses, she gave a pleading request, her voice husky and laced with desire. "Ron?"

"We're leaving, then?" At her raised brow, he grinned broadly, and taking her hand, Ron led her back through the ballroom and down the enormous hallway towards the exit when he realized his mistake. Turning his head to face her, he said, "You should probably put your mask back on, just to be safe."

She stopped him, pulled his hand so that he moved closer to her and kissed him soundly. "What could possibly happen now?" she asked.

Again, as it had been the last time something horrific had happened, Pansy watched as if seeing snapshots of what transpired next. She heard a familiar voice call her name, and turned to see Warrington baring his teeth in hatred, pointing his wand. The Unforgivable left his lips and the light from the curse left his wand near simultaneously. Pansy blinked as the green streak got closer and closer to her, unable to move, panic cementing her to the ground.

At the last second, she felt a rough shove from large hands, saw a second telltale green flash from a curse, and the next thing she knew Ron was on the ground at her feet, much more still than he should have been while in the meantime, someone was screaming. The high pitched sound got louder and louder and as Pansy knelt over Ron she heard a loud crash as the body of her attacker hit the floor behind her.

Ron's eyes opened -which was a miracle in itself as the Ministry had been experimenting with blocking the deadly Unforgivable, but it hadn't been tested yet- and looking beyond Pansy, making certain he'd managed to curse Warrington before he'd been struck, he passed out cold.

--

It had been days since Ron had been lucid. He was in and out of consciousness, and the healers that she'd had come to the house said it was amazing that he was alive at all, and the only reason that he was alive at all was a result of sheer will. Pansy had nodded grimly. That was Ron. Stubborn to the very last.

Meanwhile, she sat patiently by his bedside, having endured visits from Ron's superiors at the Ministry and even Granger and Potter, who'd dared to argue with her about taking him to St. Mungo's. When she'd make it perfectly clear that he wasn't going anywhere, and punctuated it with a few well-aimed hexes, they reluctantly left Ron in her care. He was getting better care here anyway, and she really, really wanted to be there when he awoke.

He'd saved her. He'd sacrificed himself for her life; surely if that curse had hit her, she'd have joined her late husband in the family plot. She owed it to him to care for him. And so by his bedside she sat, talking to him, holding his hand, caressing his face, sometimes even shouting at him, anything to get him to respond, to sit up and argue with her.

On an evening like so many others, with the candlelight illuminating her face, Pansy sat gazing at him, wanting him to open his blue eyes and look at her, willing him to wake. The healer on call that day had dropped in and said the longer he was unconscious the less chance he'd ever have of waking, and if he didn't soon, they'd have to move him to the long term spell damage ward at the hospital, whether Pansy wanted them to or not.

She sat watching the wax drip down the long tapers, the warm, flickering light made his skin appear warmer than she knew it was, pale in sickness. She exhaled heavily and took his hand, resting her head on his arm and talking to him quietly. "Wake up, Ron, you stubborn, stubborn man. Come on, wake up. You said you weren't leaving," she reminded him, squeezing his hand, and pressing a kiss to the skin there. "You said you weren't going anywhere, Ron Weasley. You've never lied to me. Never."

Slowly emerging from the darkness that had held him prisoner, Ron was finally able to discern the voice he'd been hearing off and on. Pansy, he thought, thrilling at her name but not being fully aware of just why it should mean so much to him. His first attempt at opening his eyes didn't work, so he concentrated on just breathing in and out and listening to the sound of Pansy's voice and the pressure of her hand on his.

After doing a quick check to be positive he was in fairly decent shape with the exception of his head that felt like it'd been used as a Bludger, he finally managed to open his eyes. "What are you nattering on about, Pans?" Ron asked, his voice low and rough from disuse. He squeezed her hand and smiled at her lopsidedly. "Bloody hell, my head's killing me."

It was all Pansy could do to restrain herself from shouting for joy. He really didn't look as if he'd appreciate that at the moment. He was awake and speaking, what she'd been hoping for for weeks. When she did speak, her voice lowered to a whisper. "I would imagine that you might have a touch of headache. Now Harry Potter's not the only one who's lived through the killing curse." She smiled and squeezed his hand. "I'm glad you've joined us in the waking world, Weasley. It was getting rather dreary sitting at your bedside day after day."

Looking around, he realized he wasn't in a cold, sterile hospital room, but by the looks of the decor, back at the Parkinson estate. "Why didn't you just ship me off to Mungo's?" he asked in confusion. "It's not like I was any good to you unconscious."

She drew back and frowned, unsure of how to answer him. Could it be that she was wrong? That he still didn't care anything about her other than an assignment? "You almost died, Ron," she told him, slowly. "You saved me from Warrington. I thought you'd want to be here." Standing, she moved away. "I suppose that, if you like, I can arrange for you to be moved."

"No, that's not what I meant at all." Struggling to sit up, he reached for Pansy's arm. "Sit with me for a minute?" He patted the edge of the bed and she reluctantly complied, tossing her hair and trying very hard to look unaffected by his nearness.

Taking her hand in his, Ron began to explain himself. "I guess what I was trying to ask in a roundabout way was if you're still interested. In me." He looked away for a moment, feeling terribly awkward, before turning himself to face her. Steeling himself for the possibility of rejection, he asked, "I wanted to know - I want to know, do you still want me?"

It would have been easiest to play it off as simply sex, that she wanted him and nothing more. Pansy wasn't good at honesty, at letting the veils down so that others could see her soul, but after years of not being able to have what she wanted from this man, sheer greed and her deep affection for him made her answer truthfully. She gazed at his face and looked into his beautiful blue eyes, and answered, "I never stopped. I've wanted you since we were sixteen years old."

Ron swore he felt his heart stop for a minute and then it began to beat double time. He felt himself smiling and he was sure he looked idiotic, but he really couldn't bring himself to care. All that mattered to him in this moment was Pansy; the same woman who'd been on his mind for as long as he could remember wanted him. Him. "Me too. Even when you were married. It was more than I could bear." He paused, searching her face and liking what he saw. "That doesn't matter though; it's in the past. And now we have the future. Our future."

Happiness swelled deep within her for the first time in a decade, and the feeling startled her enough for involuntary tears to fill her eyes. She smiled and crawled up on the bed next to him, taking care not to jostle him overmuch. "A future," she repeated softly, settling into his side and nuzzling his neck, dropping tiny kisses along his throat. "I can't wait."

--

A little more than a year later, Ron stood outside Parkinson Manor at Theodore Nott's graveside, doing something he'd been putting off for too long. The sun was setting behind him, casting a tall shadow on the headstone and he cleared his throat to speak.

"So I guess I want to thank you," Ron said quietly. "It's probably bad form, odd at the very least, but yeah. Thanks for being a crooked bastard and for getting yourself killed, Nott. I'll never forgive you for putting Pans in danger, but thanks for giving me my in."

The wind whipped at his cloak as Pansy walked up silently behind him, slipping an arm around his waist. They spent a silent moment, each in their own thoughts. The temperature seemed to drop as they stood there, and Pansy leaned up to kiss his cheek, snuggling even closer. "Why are you out here, darling?" she asked, suppressing a shiver.

"Just paying my respects to your first husband."

"There are more interesting things to do inside this evening."

Lovingly, he reached out and splayed a hand on top of her very pregnant middle. "Isn't that how you ended up with this?" he asked, bending his head to kiss her softly.

She laughed quietly as they turned away from the grave. "'This' is your son," she said, her eyebrow arched, placing her hand over his. "He's cold and his mum could do with a warm bath and an early bedtime," she said.

"Come along then," he said, wrapping his arm around her protectively and guiding her down the path back to the manor. "I'll take care of the both of you."

magical_whimsy @ 2008-07-27T00:22:00

2008-07-27T06:28:02Z

To set the stage a bit for this piece-- this was written after the Michael Corner/Cormac McLaggen kiss. Carrie wrote it for me before she left to go out of town one weekend. I'd been teasing her about wanting to do another Michael/Cormac kiss. This is totally pg rated and funny.

Michael gazed at Cormac with a burning intensity, the feelings that he held for his friend no longer pushed to the background. He moved to him slowly and took the glass of scotch from Cormac's hand, drained it, and put it back on the table.

"We've danced around this long enough, don't you think?"

Cormac stared at him, not believing that this was his friend, that this was the man who hadn't spoken to him for weeks after what they'd deemed "the incident," and now, sitting in Pansy's sitting room, mellowed by three or four doubles, it looked as if his best mate was coming around. His eyebrow raised, and a smile formed on his lips.

Taking his friend's expression for an invitation, Michael leaned forward, and when their lips met, Michael could taste the tang of the liquor that Cormac had just drunk, and his hand reached up to touch the roughness of Cormac's cheek, the day's growth like a fine sandpaper beneath his fingers.

Cormac broke away, closing his eyes as the warm feeling of Michael's hands through his dress shirt excited him. "What about Susan? Pansy?" he asked softly, knowing that it needed to be addressed, but not wanting to interfere with what was going on now, in this moment.

"They can play, too."

Too right they can, he thought. The softness of earlier was gone, and Cormac gave into Michael's assault on his mouth, the teeth biting at his lower lip, the growling moans of desire making it impossible to stop, even though Pansy could walk in at any moment. They moved awkwardly to the couch, Michael's weight pressing against the length of Cormac, and he let his hands explore his friend's back, the muscles underneath the skin, the way the broadness tapered into his hips.

"Cormac, darling?"

Cormac frowned. That isn't on, mate; don't call me that, he thought. But the voice was higher than Michael's and the pressure from Michael's body had gone. Cormac opened his eyes, and saw Pansy sitting on the edge of the sofa, where he'd apparently fallen asleep.

She leaned forward and softly kissed his lips. "I'm sorry to wake you, darling. Did you have a nice nap?" she asked, brushing the hair away from his face.

Cormac brought his had up and rested it at Pansy's waist, blinking slowly at the abrupt transition from his dream to reality. He trailed his fingers up her side, looking at her beautiful face, and blushing slightly at the one that had been there in his subconscious just moments ago.

"Oh, yes, doll. Very nice nap," he answered with a smile.

What a Malfoy Wants -- dg exchange fic written by persephone33 and seegrim

2008-06-25T07:44:02Z

Title: What a Malfoy Wants 1/2
Rating: PG
Possible Spoilers/Warnings:None
Summary:There were a few things Draco Malfoy never thought he'd experience in the course of his life as a reformed Death-Eater, true love being one of them, so he was pleasantly surprised when Ginny Weasley came crashing through the unguarded gates of his heart.

ORIGINAL REQUEST:
What would you like to receive?
The tone/mood of the fic: Very fluffy
An element/line of dialogue/object you would like in your fic: And I can't believe, that I'm your man, And I get to kiss you baby just because I can ( Everything by Michael Buble)
Preferred rating of the the fic you want: PG-13
Canon or AU? Doesn’t matter, just not TOO AU, make it plausible.
Deal Breakers (what don't you want?): Bitchy Harry

CHAPTER ONE

Ginny appeared on the polished marble steps of the imposing Malfoy Manor, responding to an accident and emergency call. She wasn't terribly excited that she had been the one to take the call, but she supposed the Malfoys had the same right to medical attention as any other wizarding family. Her wand still in her hand, she knocked abruptly on the massive wooden door.

The colossal door swung open to reveal Draco Malfoy, a frown on his face.

Draco looked at the woman who was obviously the healer that he'd summoned. He recognized her immediately; after all, he'd spent the better part of his sixth year watching her from afar. To be honest, fantasizing about her. He'd never really spoken to her, although he'd thought about it, and her, a great deal.

"Ginny Weasley. Come in."

"Thank you," she said as she entered through the door, noticing the strained expression on Draco's face. She couldn't help but think he must be quite worried about his mother if he sidestepped propriety and received her at the door himself instead of letting a house elf attend to it.

He gazed at her for a moment, lost in old memories, and then blinked several times, remembering what she was there for.

"Right," he said, gesturing to the corridor ahead of them. "My mother took a nasty spill in the gardens a few minutes ago and hit her head on the stone path. I want to make sure that she's alright," he said as they walked through magnificently decorated hallway, with the likes of Rembrandt and Monet gracing the walls. "She's just through here."

He opened the double doors to reveal a ladies' parlour, done in summer colors, delicate and feminine, which held Narcissa Malfoy, elegant and regal. Even with a head injury, she was in complete command of the room, and looked as if she could host a luncheon for two hundred at a moment's notice.

"Is this the healer, Draco?" the blonde woman asked, appraising Ginny with a quirked eyebrow. "I told you that I was fine, darling. You didn't have to call St. Mungo's."

Draco looked at Ginny with an expression that clearly read, 'help.'

Ginny grinned at Draco as she set her cloak down on a chair and stepped forward to kneel by the chaise Narcissa was seated upon. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Malfoy. Yes, I am the healer. My name is Ginny Weasley." She observed Narcissa while introducing herself and noted that she seemed to be alert and aware. Getting to her feet and taking the chair to the side of the chaise that Draco offered her she said, "I'd like to take a quick look at your head, if I may."

At Narcissa's nod, Ginny carefully searched her head for signs of trauma, but other than a few tiny scratches along her temple; Ginny found nothing out of the ordinary. She passed her wand over them, murmuring the incantation, and they disappeared.

Narcissa pulled out a hand mirror and inspected Ginny's work. The porcelain skin was unmarred. "Well done," she said in approval.

"Thank you," Ginny said with a smile. "I'm going to ask you a few questions now, if you don't mind. I'm afraid they may seem silly."

Narcissa studied Ginny for a moment. She glanced up at Draco with a long-suffering look and replied, "Yes, alright."

"Could you tell me what day of the week it is?" Ginny asked almost apologetically.

Narcissa's face remained carefully blank. It wouldn't do to call visiting healers idiots, after all. "It's Tuesday afternoon at half four," she replied with pursed lips. Looking up at her son, she said, "Speaking of, Draco darling, would you arrange tea, please?"

"Of course, Mother." Ginny watched for a moment as he crossed the room and rang a small bell, conversed briefly with a house elf, and returned quickly.

Ginny was certain that Narcissa was quite fine, but needed to be absolutely certain. "Mrs. Malfoy? Do you recall what you ate for breakfast?"

The girl is earnest, at least. She apparently isn't going to be intimidated or rushed off. Good for her. A faint smile graced the corner of Narcissa Malfoy's mouth. "Half a grapefruit and toast. Tea with honey."

She then gave Draco a pointed look, and Ginny watched as the man's face went from concerned to amused.

"Yes, that's right. She remembers. She also remembers the éclair she had as well, that she doesn't want you to know about." He threw himself in the chair across from them and chuckled. "It's her dirty little secret."

Narcissa huffed. "Draco Malfoy!" She rolled her eyes and looked at Ginny in commiseration. "Men." She shot Draco a glare. "That's it. You're out of the will."

"Mother, you say that three times a week," Draco replied with a smile.

"And this time I mean it," she said, smoothing her already perfect blonde hair into the twist that held it.

Draco laughed. "Yes, alright, Mother."

Ginny caught herself smiling as she followed their banter back and forth. She rose to her feet and gathered up her bag of medical supplies. "I think you're going to be just fine, Mrs. Malfoy." She glanced quickly at Draco before continuing, "I'm glad Draco was cautious, though. You can never be too careful with head injuries."

Narcissa nodded and gestured for Ginny to take a seat as an elf wheeled in the afternoon tea. "Yes, well, his smart mouth aside, he is a good boy," she said, pleased at Ginny's compliment of her son. She poured for the threesome and sat back for a moment, watching her son watch the healer. She found that little development very interesting indeed.

"How is your mother, Miss Weasley?" Narcissa asked Ginny over the rim of her teacup. "It's been an age since I've seen her."

"She is doing very well; she's just been made a Grandmum, and she's never been happier. Thank you for asking." Ginny took a sip from her teacup, pleasantly surprised that she was enjoying tea with Narcissa and Draco Malfoy, of all people.

"A grandmother!" Narcissa exclaimed. She clapped her hands in delight and sighed, her face falling as she looked at Draco with a disappointed air. "I should be so lucky. At the rate Draco scares away women I won't be a grandmother until I'm too old to pick up the little darlings."

"Mother," Draco muttered in embarrassment, rolling his eyes.

Ginny shared a look of commiseration with Draco and offered him up a small smile. She should have realized Narcissa would do the same thing Molly would at the mention of grandbabies. She bit back a giggle though at the thought of Draco scaring away women; she knew he was one of the most sought after bachelors in Great Britain. "I didn't realize Draco was so frightening," she said lightly, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, you know me, terribly frightening," Draco said drolly, setting down his cup.

"Terrified of commitment, more like," Narcissa countered under her breath.

Ginny's eyes widened and she continued, "Draco told me you were out in the garden at the time of your fall. Do you spend a lot of time in your garden?" She noticed Draco seemed to relax a bit at her reply.

"More time than she does indoors, that's for sure," Draco interjected. "I get less attention than her roses," he said with a mock pout.

"Yes, well," Narcissa replied with a authoritative tone, if you start winning awards and multiplying like they do, then we'll renegotiate the amount of time I spend with you," she teased.

Ginny couldn't stop the laughter that bubbled forth, and instinctively clapped a hand over her mouth. "Forgive me for laughing, please."

"There's nothing wrong with laughter, Miss Weasley," Narcissa said. "It's something that this house could use more of." She gazed at her son, whose face, for the first time in quite a while, held a pleasant expression.

Ginny smiled at Narcissa's words. She would have never have guessed her to be so personable and kind. "I'd love to see your roses sometime," Ginny said, hoping she hadn't overstepped her bounds as a visiting healer, but feeling surprisingly comfortable with the Malfoy matriarch.

"Of course. The next time you find yourself in the middle of the Wiltshire countryside, do drop in."

Ginny's smile faltered only a little and she gathered her bag, thanked Mrs. Malfoy for tea, and walked silently as Draco escorted her to the entrance hall.

They came to the large front doors and Draco stood with his hands shoved in his pockets, a lock of blond hair falling across his forehead. "I do appreciate your promptness in coming all the way out here," he said sincerely.

"It was no problem at all. I'm just glad your mother wasn't seriously hurt." She watched Draco's fringe fall almost down into his eyes and her fingers itched to reach out and brush it off it forehead. "Please don't hesitate to Floo if you're concerned about her again. You'll want to keep a close eye on her for the next twenty-four hours."

He nodded, and reached out a hand and shook hers, conscious that in all the time that he'd known her, this was the first time they'd touched. Her hand was small and delicate, but warm, and she applied just the right amount of pressure. He noted that she didn't pull away immediately, either, unlike most people who shook the hands of former Death Eaters.

"Until next time, Miss Weasley," he said, bringing her hand up and brushing his lips over her knuckles.

Ginny's stomach flip-flopped nicely as his lips made contact with her hand which was tingling from his touch. "Please, call me Ginny," she said looking up at him through her lashes. She was sure she was blushing furiously, and with one last look at Draco, she Apparated.

Draco closed the doors and grinned. Ginny Weasley. This wouldn't be the last time he saw her, he'd make sure of that. There was energy to his step that hadn't been there in quite some time when he rejoined his mother in her parlour.

Narcissa knew her son quite well, and she knew him to be kind and impulsive, even though the newspapers printed otherwise. She could tell that he was taken with the Weasley girl. And Narcissa heartily approved, if for no other reasons that the girl was beautiful and, if anything like her mother, would give Narcissa a houseful of grandchildren in no time. But she had to make sure Draco was serious; he’d wasted quite a lot of time in her opinion, on girls that were completely unworthy of him, or relationships that she'd known wouldn't work from the start. She was sure that this one would, if he could only work past his own prejudices and inability to settle down and actually be with a girl.

Feeling him out, she asked, "The healer was a nice girl, don't you think?"

Draco sat up a little straighter. "Yes," he said.

"Too bad her whole family's a bunch of blood traitors. I can't tell you how many times your father cursed Arthur Weasley's name over the last twenty years," she intoned, watching Draco closely.

Draco's entire posture changed. "Right. I forgot about that."

Narcissa mentally rolled her eyes. Fight with me. Tell me he was wrong. Tell me you don't care. "Pity," Narcissa said, watching Draco from the corner of her eye. "Because she was a lovely girl. Impeccable manners. Charming personality."

She was disappointed in him. He didn't care enough about the girl to tell his mother that she was wrong. Narcissa hated to do it, but she decided to use her secret weapon. The one that always worked.

"Tell me, Draco," she said with an interested expression, "have you seen the Parkinson girl recently? Her mother tells me she's asked after you several times."

"No, Mother," Draco said sharply. "I have not seen, nor talked to Pansy in quite a while, and I won't be anytime soon, either." He stood and tried not to roll his eyes. "I'm going up to my suite for a bit before dinner."

Narcissa hid a smirk. "Alright, darling. Dinner at eight."

"Of course." He started to stalk from the room when a flash of burgundy caught his eye. He nonchalantly picked up Ginny Weasley's forgotten cloak without breaking stride, and left the room.

After the door had closed behind him, Narcissa let out a soft chuckle. "I wonder how long it will be before he reunites the inimitable Miss Weasley with her cloak?" she murmured aloud, leaning her head against the back of her chair, triumphant smile in place.

****************

Draco stared at the scrap of cloth for the two thousandth time that week. He should take it to her. It was hers. She might be cold. She might not remember where she'd left it. He wouldn't try to chat her up while he was there. He'd just give it to her and leave.

Right?

Right.

He grabbed the cloak, and marched to the Floo before he could change his mind. Throwing is a handful of dust, he enunciated, "St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries."

The spinning sensation of the Floo always made him feel a bit off, so Draco stood against the wall in the corridor for a moment before setting off to find Ginny. He pointed his wand at her cloak and siphoned of the soot, and then at himself, hoping he erased all traces of Floo travel.

Walking down the hall to the tea room during an afternoon break, Ginny found her thoughts turning unbidden once more to Draco. He'd been entirely pleasant with her and she certainly couldn't deny there had been a definite physical attraction. She still felt butterflies when she thought of his warm lips on her hand and the lovely pressure they exerted. She couldn't help but wonder how those lips would feel elsewhere. Blushing slightly, she turned the corner and ran straight into the object of her musings.

"Malfoy!" she said, feeling rather flustered and certain that if there had been a stick of butter nearby she'd have already put an elbow in it. "Um, hello," she said, trying to get the higher part of her brain functioning again, and in succeeding, she realized he looked a bit green. "I'm just on my way to the tea room, would you care to join me for a cup?"

Draco cursed whatever wizard invented the Floo network. It would be his luck that he'd run into Ginny while looking peaky. "Yes," he said thankfully, "tea would be fantastic." They began walking down the hall to the lifts and he looked down at the top of her head, at all the different shades of red hair that she'd pinned up. "And it's Draco."

"Right in here then, Draco," she said, pointing at the open door to her right. She hoped she wasn't as red-faced as she felt, but she knew there wasn't much to be done about it even if she was. It didn't help her blush much that he was looking very sharp in black trousers and a blue button-down shirt; she was finding it difficult to concentrate. She gestured to the sofa and said, "Why don't you have a seat?" She dragged her eyes away from him and turned to the counter to prepare their tea. She arranged everything neatly on a tray with some biscuits and set it on the table in front of the sofa. Sitting down next to Draco, she smoothed out her skirt and set her hands in her lap. "What brings you to St. Mungo's today?" She smiled at Draco, but then her expression became worried. "It's not your mother, is it?"

He smiled and held out the cloak he'd forgotten he was holding. "Here, I found this in the parlour after you left. I hope it hasn't been an inconvenience not having it." He held out the garment. "So, to answer your question, I came to St. Mungo's today to see you, Ginny." So much for not chatting her up, he thought.

"To see me?" she asked, a smile forming on her face. As she reached out to take her cloak from him, their fingertips brushed and all she could hear was her heart beating an insistent cadence in her ears. She set her cloak aside and picked up a cup of tea before she looked at him again. She pondered briefly how a man could be so beautiful and still remain masculine as he clearly was. She tore her gaze away from his perfectly formed lips and looked him in the eyes. She told herself she didn't need to go getting all excited because he had come to return her cloak. "Thank you for returning it. Honestly, I had forgotten where I'd left it."

He nodded. "I thought as much when you didn't come back for it." He took a mug of tea and thought about throwing his mother's opinion out the window and asking Ginny out right there and then. Instead, he leaned back on the sofa and studied every part of her that he could see while he had the chance. "I'm not keeping you from anything, am I?"

"Not at all. I was heading on my break when I about flattened you in the hallway earlier," she said with a giggle. "Sorry for that."

"It would have been my pleasure, I'm sure," he replied, his lips quirking.

"I'm not so sure about that," she joked. "The last person I ran into was incapacitated for a week. I may look tiny, but I pack quite the punch I'll have you know."

"I can imagine," he murmured. He took a biscuit from the tray and stopped suddenly, the manners his mother ingrained temporarily forgotten. "May I?" he asked.

"Of course, help yourself to anything you like."

Draco looked at her sharply, his eyes twinkling. "Oh, Ginny, you shouldn't make statements like that. I tend to take things very literally."

"Oh. Oh!" she said, noticing the look in his eyes that matched the tone of his voice. "Well, perhaps not anything you like," she added with a giggle.

"Well isn't that just too bad?" he said, smirking at the blush that pinked her cheeks. "I'll have to make do with a macaroon." He popped the bite size treat in his mouth and smiled at her as he chewed. She was every bit as lovely if not more so than she'd been at school. Her eyes were completely beautiful, especially when she looked at him from beneath her lashes. He wondered if she'd allow him to kiss her. Just once. Just to finally know what it would be like. He looked down and took another sip of tea. Probably not, though, he thought. Nice girls and Former Death Eaters didn't generally go together. He breathed deeply and set the cup down, laying his arm on the back of the sofa behind her head.

"Well, they are good macaroons," she said, suddenly aware of what felt like hundreds of butterflies in her stomach. Ginny noticed Draco's arm behind her head as it came to rest across her shoulders. She swallowed as the butterflies turned into Hippogriffs at his touch. She knew it had been awhile since her last boyfriend, but she couldn't remember being so excited over a mere arm brushing her shoulders before.

When she tilted her face to look up at him, Draco took the chance he'd wanted since he was seventeen years old. He closed the gap between them and caught her lips with his. Just that brief contact with Ginny's lips excited Draco more than he thought possible. Before he could stop himself, he brought his hand up to cradle her cheek, and the soft sigh she expelled at that contact was almost his undoing. He swept his tongue in her open mouth and smiled that she tasted of coconut, chamomile and honey.

Groaning, he pulled back from her, looking at her dazed eyes, and suddenly feeling very guilty. And frustrated. "Apologies. I simply couldn't resist."

It took a moment for Ginny to form words. She was shocked, but the kiss had been lovely; she felt it from the top of her head all the way down to her toes. "No apologies necessary, Draco, not for that." She smiled demurely at him when what she really wanted to do was pull her to him and give him the snog of his life. But she was only on break and it was coming quickly to an end. "But I have to apologize," she began, "I'm due back any minute. Thank you for returning my cloak."

"Of course," he replied, standing with her. He knew that he shouldn't have done that. A girl like Ginny; beautiful, intelligent, a good conversationalist, would never want him. He should stick to the girls who didn't think very often. Shallow, vapid, society types that wanted him for his money and didn't care about his past. He should pay attention to the advice of his mother and pay Pansy Parkinson a visit.

He shuddered internally. Over my dead body.

Ginny reached out and squeezed his shoulder lightly and found she wished she had a reason to keep her hand there. "I'll see you around then."

Draco gave her a crooked, perhaps wistful smile, and ran his fingers through his blond hair. "I certainly hope so." He nodded to her and started down the corridor.

She watched him as he strode confidently down the hallway. She was having a difficult time reconciling this Draco Malfoy with the one she had known at Hogwarts. He was charming and polite, and the fact that he was devastatingly handsome helped a bit as well. She shook her head and reminded herself she should come back to the real world where Malfoys and Weasleys didn't mix and where she had patients to see.

What a Malfoy Wants -- dg exchange fic written by persephone33 and seegrim

2008-06-25T07:42:32Z

Title: What a Malfoy Wants 2/2
Rating: PG
Possible Spoilers/Warnings:None
Summary:There were a few things Draco Malfoy never thought he'd experience in the course of his life as a reformed Death-Eater, true love being one of them, so he was pleasantly surprised when Ginny Weasley came crashing through the unguarded gates of his heart.

CHAPTER TWO

"Quit pouting, Draco. It's most unbecoming."

Draco glanced over at his mother and just barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes at her. Sometimes she still treated him as if he were twelve years old. It was true, he had been moping about the house as of late, but things hadn't been going his way. Hisway would have been if Ginny Weasley had fallen in love with him at the hospital tearoom, jumped into his arms and possibly (well probably , who was he kidding) his bed, telling him that his affiliation during the war didn't matter a whit and she wanted nothing more than to love him till the end of her days.

He scoffed at he shuffled over to the window. Malfoys don't get the fairy tale, he thought.

"Draco," Narcissa admonished. "Pick up your feet when you walk, dear."

Draco frowned. "Yes, alright," he replied tightly.

"What in the world is wrong with you? You've been in a mood for two weeks." When he didn't turn from the window or answer her question, Narcissa shot a mild stinging hex at the back of his knee.

Draco clenched his teeth, turning to glare at his mother. "OUCH!" he exclaimed. "That bloody hurt, Mother!"

Narcissa raised an eyebrow. "It was meant to. And watch your language, or I'll give you another."

Draco ground his jaw and stood silently.

Narcissa pointed her wand at him again. "I believe I asked you a question, son."

"Nothing, Mother. There's nothing wrong with me."

Her wand dropped to point to the area just below his belt. "I don't mind doing it, you know. Don't push me."

He sat quickly and held up his hands. "Alright!" He sat down and gave her a hard look. "There's something I want that I can't have."

"Nonsense. You're a Malfoy. You can have whatever you want, given the proper incentive."

"That's not necessarily so," Draco replied, scowling.

"If you can't find a way, darling, make one."

"I don't need quotes from father right now, thanks."

"Do not argue with me, Draco. I think you'll find that you're not too old to be disciplined," Narcissa said in clipped tones.

"Enough, Mother. I'm not a child, and there are things in life that simply cannot happen. You said it yourself. "Malfoys do not consort with Blood Traitors. Father would roll over in his grave."

"Ah," Narcissa said softly, inwardly delighted. Perhaps her son had a backbone, after all. "This is about the Weasley girl, then? The healer?"

Draco scowled and looked away.

Narcissa rose from her seat and looked down at her son. "You just said that you aren't a child. It's about time you start living by your own beliefs, don't you?" She crossed to the door. "I meant what I said, by the way, Draco. There is nothing unattainable for a Malfoy. You just have to want it badly enough." She paused with her hand on the door, looked at him for a moment, and was gone.

Draco was speechless. After a few seconds, a slow smile spread across his face, and his plan began forming.

******************

He walked into St. Mungo's with a spring in his step, almost, but not quite happy enough to whistle. He and Ginny had had a connection the last time he was here. Although that was several weeks past, he felt certain that his charm and wit could win her over, and maybe, just maybe he could get another kiss out of the visit. And if he had his way, much, much more.

He stood still in the lobby of the hospital when he realized that he had no idea where to start looking for her.

He stopped a nurse as she walked by. "Do you have any idea where I could find Healer Weasley?"

The nurse gaped at him, apparently afraid. "F-fourth floor, s-second office from the r-right after you get off the lifts," she said and scuttled away.

Draco sighed. Apparently not everyone was as accepting as Ginny. He wouldn't let that bother him, though, not today. He followed the woman's directions, but when he exited the lift, he saw that he didn't need to find Ginny's office. She was in the middle of the corridor, standing in the arms of another man, wrapped in his embrace. and as Draco stood watching, the man leaned his head down and with a familiarity that was more than Draco liked, he kissed the top of her head.

He stood gaping until he realized that his displeasure showed on his face. Turning his back on the couple, he pushed the button for the lifts and stood waiting for it to stop on his floor, hoping that Ginny didn't notice that he was there.

"Thank you, James," she said warmly to her co-worker. "I knew you'd be able to get the funding. I'm so excited. To think that we'll be able to treat more children now, and all because of you."

They said their goodbyes and Ginny, still grinning, felt her heart somersault as she realized Draco was standing over by the lifts. "Draco?" she called out and began to walk towards him. She wondered what had brought him back to St. Mungo's for the second time in as many weeks. "Hello," she said happily.

Draco looked at the floor and cursed whatever god was responsible for this. Once every now and then you could give me a break he thought. Looking up at Ginny's face, he forced a pleasant smile on his face. "Hello, yourself."

"Please tell me I didn't forget something else at your manor," she said with a laugh. "Although it is nice to see you again," she admitted freely.

"It's nice to see you, as well," he said politely. "And no, I don't have anything for you." She was just lovely, standing there smiling at him. If he didn't know better he'd think she was looking at him if he were the only man in the room. He pointed toward the lifts. I was just going," he said, shrugging.

"Oh?" Ginny ran over their ten second conversation in her head. Had she said or done something to chase him away? Why was he acting as if he couldn't wait to leave her? "Bye then," she said softly and watched carefully as he walked onto the lift. Before the doors closed, he held up a hand in farewell, gave her a sort of wistful smile, and then shot an unmistakable Malfoy glare over her shoulder.

She was taken aback, left staring at the closed doors. She turned around, following the direction his gaze had taken, and there stood James, the man she had been embracing not two minutes ago. Why in the name of Merlin would he be upset with James of all people? she wondered. He hadn't done anything other than give her a hug and peck on the forehead. Her jaw dropped and she continued staring at James. Unless... Draco fancies me?

Ginny threw open the door to the stairwell and ran down the three flights of stairs, hoping to catch Draco before he Apparated away. She burst into the lobby and hurriedly searched around for him, but she had obviously missed him. "Buggering hell." She collapsed into a chair by the reception desk and ran her hand through her curly locks, thinking of the look Draco had given James and wondering if it really meant what she hoped it did.

**************

"Don't stomp up the stairs, darling, you'll skew the portraits."

"I'll stomp if I like, Mother," Draco replied petulantly.

Abraxas Malfoy shouted in his frame. "Watch that cheek, boy. You aren't too old to take a wand to, you know!" the portrait blustered.

Draco shot the portrait of his grandfather a rude gesture and kept walking.

The portrait kept on. "You coddled the boy too much, girl," he said to Narcissa, wagging a finger at her.

"Stuff it, you old windbag," Narcissa muttered, following Draco up the staircase.

Ignoring the sputtering of her father in-law, Narcissa walked in Draco's suite to find him sitting in a chair by the fire. He had an unreadable expression on his face. if she had to put a word to it, she'd have chosen resigned. And she didn't like that, not at all.
She sat in the other chair flanking the fire and looked at him expectantly.

He met her gaze and said nothing. She looked at her son who despite his six foot plus frame, still very much reminded her of the boy who'd once come to her when he was upset. He'd never admit a weakness, that wasn't his nature, but Narcissa liked to think she was still a bit more clever than he was. She'd wait.

"I've got all afternoon, Draco."

Draco dragged his eyes from the fire. "All afternoon for what, Mother?"

"I assume that you went to see Miss Weasley?"

Draco's brows furrowed in response.

Narcissa was surprised. "She didn't refuse you?"

Draco looked at his mother, exasperated. "No, because I didn't ask. She was with someone. I think it's safe to say I missed that opportunity, Mother, but thank you for taking such a keen interest."

"I see. Well, I'm sure it's all for the best," she said, leaning forward and patting his hand reassuringly.

Inwardly, Narcissa's mind was churning. Draco may have accepted that Ginny was taken, but Narcissa was not prepared to do any such thing. She saw the expression on Draco's face when he looked at the girl. And as a mother, she was prepared to do whatever it took to put it there again. It would take some planning, and preparation. And just a little underhandedness. My speciality, she thought.

***************

CHAPTER THREE

Healer G. Weasley
C/O St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

Dear Miss Weasley,

I find that I'm having residual issues regarding my head injury of several weeks ago. I didn't want to worry my son, but I would very much appreciate your coming out again, as you were the healer that handled the case. Perhaps this afternoon around two?

Sincerely,
Narcissa B. Malfoy

**********

Dear Mrs. Malfoy,

Thank you for contacting me. I'm sorry to hear you are still experiencing problems. I will see you this afternoon.

Cordially,
Ginny Weasley

******************

Once again Ginny found herself waiting on the front steps of Malfoy Manor. She was let in by the tallest, most distinguished looking House Elf she'd ever seen, and as she followed him to Narcissa's parlour, she couldn't help but hope that Draco was home and that she'd get to see him. The elf bowed and left the room, and Ginny was alone.

She only sat for a few moments, before Draco came rushing into the room, but stopped short when he saw Ginny.

"Hello."

Ginny smiled, wondering if she was in some kind of wishing room. "Hi, Draco," she said, confused.

"Why are you here?" he asked abruptly."

"I received an owl from your mother earlier, requesting to see me. She said she was still having issues from the fall."

Draco frowned. "An elf just told me that she wished to see me in here. That it was urgent." He turned toward the door. "I'll just go find her."

When he touched the doorknob, his hand received one of his mother's stinging hexes. Draco narrowed his eyes. "Mother!" he shouted.

There was disembodied laughter, and then it faded away, leaving Draco to look at Ginny apologetically.

"She's alright then?" Ginny asked, now completely bewildered. "But her owl? She wanted me to meet her here...." she trailed off.

"Aright is a relative term," Draco replied darkly. He sighed. "Would you like to have a seat? I'll try to explain."

She looked at Draco, noticing his discomfort and she was intrigued. She sat down on sofa with him and looked to him expectantly.

"This is rather embarrassing," Draco began. "Remember when you saw me at St. Mungo's? I was there to see you."

"To see me?" she repeated. She could hear the disbelief in her own voice. As much as she wanted to believe that Draco fancied her back, she had to be realistic. Why would he be interested in her? She knew from the papers that the women he dated were fascinating beauties, exotic even. It was silly to even think it. "Oh. To see me," she repeated. "Are you not feeling well?" she asked, reaching for her medical bag. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, “he replied, gesturing for her to put away her medical bag. "Nothing physically, I mean." He paused. "Ginny, do you remember me, how I was, when we were at school?"

"Do I remember? Of course I remember. You were a bit, er, unforgettable," she said in what she hoped he realized was kindness.

Draco wrinkled his nose. "That doesn't sound like a good sort of unforgettable."

"All I really ever heard was the negative from Ron and Harry," she said apologetically. "And then there was the unfortunate Bat Bogey incident."

"Ah, yes," he said. "I remember that. Creatively painful. I'm sure I deserved it."

"You did." She fought back a grin as he winced. "Draco?" she asked. "Why would you wonder if I remembered you?"

It was now or never. Draco held his breath and looked into her eyes. "Here's the thing, Ginny," he began. "I owe you an apology, first and foremost."

"You do?"

"Yes. For when I kissed you in the tearoom," he said. "I didn't know."

Ginny studied Draco. His expression was earnest, but she had not the slightest idea what he was referring to. "What didn't you know?"

"I didn't know you were with someone. I'd do a lot of unscrupulous things, but stealing you away from another man isn't one of them." She started to say something, but Draco held up a hand. "Please, let me continue. I've wanted to say this for years."

"You have?"

"Ginny, I've always been fascinated with you. Even when we were children. The way you carried yourself, the way you handled your brothers, even the way you flew your broomstick. I always wanted to be the one with you, but circumstances and prejudices and my own cowardice stopped me from telling you."

Her eyes widened, and she wasn't sure what to say, even if she had been able to trust her voice.

He took a deep breath and looked at the floor, then back up to lock his gaze with hers. "And don't expect you to leave him, or even give me a second glance, but I just thought it had been long enough, that you should know." He chuckled mirthlessly and gestured to the room. "And mother did go to all this trouble."

"I like your mother," she said softly. This was all so surreal, and she wished she could pinch herself somehow without him noticing. "But, Draco?" She reached out for his hand, once again feeling the bottom of her stomach drop in a pleasant lurch. "There isn't another man. That was James -another healer- you saw me with by the lifts; he could be another brother as far as I'm concerned."

"Then you're not- he's not?"

Ginny squeezed his hand and smiled. "He's not," she affirmed.

Draco sat dumbfounded. This was either the best dream he'd ever had, or someone was playing an elaborate joke on them, and he'd have to kill them.

He cleared his throat softly. "First of all, I retract the apology for kissing you."

"You do?" She bit her lower lip in anticipation.

He moved a bit closer to her on the sofa. "And second, I would like very much to do it again."

Her hand rose on its own accord and rested against his cheek. "I'd like that very much, Draco."

He leaned in towards her, their noses barely brushing once, and he inhaled the scent of her. The aroma of her perfume, and mint, and the citrus of her shampoo all intermingled, and his eyes closed reflexively. "So long. I've waited so long for this."

Ginny could feel her heart pound against her ribcage. "You shouldn't have waited, you silly man," she whispered.

She tilted her head just a touch; her lips barely touched his and Draco lost his resolve to go slowly and pulled her closer, a groan coming from deep in his chest. He wanted to drink her in, to hold her and kiss her until they were both breathless, until it didn't matter that he'd wasted years on not listening to his instincts. His fingers gripped her waist and his thumb traced a pattern that he was longing to see for himself. Pressing his lips against hers, he teased with a soft kiss once or twice, before taking her bottom lip between his teeth gently and brushing it with his tongue.

She opened her lips at his urging and was rewarded with a growl from Draco as he swept his tongue into her waiting mouth. She moaned softly as he pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her. She thought she could feel the room spinning around them, but she didn't care; all she cared about was the delicious pressure of his lips on hers, his tongue battling with hers for dominance, and the heat that was emanating from his body.

Draco pulled away a bit and gazed at the girl in his lap. He couldn't believe his good fortune, that this woman, the object of his unspoken affection for so many years was here, with him, and appeared to be just as taken with him as he was with her.

"Unbelievable," he whispered.

"What is?" she asked, smiling, her eyes twinkling.

"That you're here. That you're finally mine." He frowned. "You are mine, aren't you?"

"And you're mine," she confirmed.

"And I can kiss you anytime." He whispered as he nuzzled her neck. "Just because I can."

"You better," she said. "How about you start now?"

Draco grinned. "Perfect," he murmured, before bringing her mouth to his and tangling his fingers in her hair.

Ginny pulled back, concern etched on her face. "Are you worried what others will say?" She continued quickly before he could answer, "I'm not. I want you to know that. I know who you are, and I want you."

"It isn't anything that can't be overcome now that I have you," he said between kisses. "I find that I really don't care what others think so much, anymore."

**********************

Narcissa stood up, pulling her ear away from the door with a rather large smirk on her face. Taking the hex off the door, she walked down the hallway, content to let Draco have this moment for himself. There would be plenty of time to say "I told you so," later.

There's no way that's possible.

2008-06-09T23:53:29Z

Cormac sat straight up in bed, backing away from Pansy quickly on his heels. "No bloody way. There's no way that's possible," he whispered. "Pregnant?"

"Well, evidently it is possible, as it's true," she said, her eyes starting to water again as she moved off the bed. "And don't look at me like that. It's isn't my fault." She pulled her handkerchief out again and sank into the chaise, putting her face in her hands. He heard a muffled, "I'm not taking the blame for this."

"Well where'd you get the potion from?" Cormac paced the room before returning to the bed. If he could just figure out what to do, whose fault this was, he'd feel better. "That's who's to blame for this!"

"Potion?" Pansy asked, her head jerking up. "I never got a potion. That was your job. You were supposed to get a potion. I always used a spell."

"No, no, no. That so wasn't my responsibility. That was my gift to you. Not my job." He looked at her, a shocked expression on his face.

Pansy sniffed. "After all this time, I never realized you were a heartless bastard." She got up and crawled on the bed, moving closer to him, and finally into his reluctant arms. "What's done is done, though, darling. And we have to decide what to do."

"Exactly! What do we do with the... the bastards?" He scowled at Pansy before breaking into a fit of giggles. "I can't do this," he said, rolling over onto his side laughing.

She gasped and smacked him. "Cormac, this isn't funny. It's very serious!" Pansy exclaimed with a hurt look on her face. "I don't know what to do! I'm not ready for this!"

"Come on, Pansy. How difficult can it be? Females get big and fat and then squeeze out a litter. It can't be that big of a deal."

"Get out," she said crossing her arms over her chest and looking at the opposite wall, her bottom lip pushed out a fraction of an inch. "If you're going to be cruel, then you may leave, Cormac James McLaggen, and not come back."

"Doll, baby, come on," he said, sitting behind her and pulling her onto his lap. "It'll be fine. Everything's going to be alright. I promise." He nuzzled his face into the side of her neck. "What do you say we fool around for a bit, grandma?"

"Don't ever call me that again," she said, turning a little so that he could kiss her properly. She sighed softly and looked down at the grey cat sprawled on the end of the bed. "Harlot," she spat, her nose wrinkled in disapproval.

Beatrice cracked an eye and moved to the pair on the bed, curling up next to them. Pansy frowned and stroked her fur, shaking her head. "You'll be useless, now, won't you?" she asked softly.

Cormac reached around Pansy's side to scratch Beatrice on the head. "Just think, though. We'll have little baby Beatrice's. It'll be nice. Little furry baby kneazles? What could be better than that?" He smiled down at Pansy. "Although, if I ever find the toerag bastard that knocked up our baby, I'll skin him alive," he added.

"You'll have to get in line," Pansy replied, settling in to him and laying her head on his chest.

You might want to ask...

2008-06-08T08:03:31Z

Michael hefted the saddle from Traveller, his black stallion, and patted the creature's neck. Reaching into a pocket, he offered a carrot, smiling as the animal took it and chewed, nosing at his shoulder in affection.

Cormac, already having seen his mare back to her stall, smirked as he came across Michael and Traveller. "Is there a reason you're taking so bloody long, mate? I'd like to eat sometime today if you don't mind."

"And this is the point in the conversation when I take the high road and don't compare you to Traveller's hindquarters," Michael said, pointing the the part of the horse in question. At Cormac's non-plussed expression, Michael chuckled at his little joke, gave Traveller a few strokes with a curry brush, threw a blanket over him, and replied, "Yeah. Let's go eat. Where? The Leaky?" he asked with a grin.

"The Leaky again?" Cormac rolled his eyes. "If you have no concern for you own health, at least think of mine, please."

"Fine, your majesty," Michael said, rolling his eyes. "Where would his highness like to dine then? No sprouts or somewhere with too many vegetables, though. Someplace with potatoes. Lead on."

"Let's go to the Blue Owl this time, and next time we'll go to the Leaky, alright?" Cormac offered. "Or, and I realize this is a crazy thought, we could try someplace new?"

Michael looked skeptically at Cormac. "I don't trust new. What do you have in mind?"

Cormac continued, "I was out shopping for Pansy the other day, and there's a new place down by Heliotropes. The Laughing Cabbage. Have you heard of it?"

Michael scowled. "Yes. It sounds healthy."

"And happy. Don't forget that." Cormac grinned. "Meet you there?" he said, and disappeared with a pop.

"Cabbage," Michael muttered under his breath. "Because that sounds like somewhere that I want to eat," he said, pulling a face and Disapparating.

************

He reappeared in front of the restaurant and immediately saw Cormac talking to two women. Of bloody course. Can't go anywhere with him that girls don't fall at his feet.

The closer he got to the threesome in front of the restaurant, the more familiar the girls' hair looked. He recognized her legs and the way she carried herself. It was Padma. His heart dropped into his stomach. He hadn't so much as seen a glimpse of her since that night at the restaurant. He guessed that was how she wanted it.

"Michael, hey, look who I ran into," Cormac said with a grin while gesturing to Parvati and Padma. "Some of our housemates. I just invited them to dine with us." He smiled charmingly at the women. "What do you say, ladies?"

Parvati smiled back at them, eyeing Michael appreciatively. "Of course we will!" she exclaimed, threading her arm through Padma's. "How often do we get the opportunity to have lunch with two such handsome men?"

Michael sought Padma's eyes immediately, to gauge her feelings, or offer a silent apology, or just to look at her, but she didn't do more than glance at him and look away again. His heart dropped to his stomach. It's official. She hates me.

"Terrific, then," Cormac said as he held the door for the ladies.

They were seated, wine was ordered, and Padma and Parvati excused themselves to go to the loo.

"Bloody hell!" Cormac exclaimed as they walked off. "I forgot there were two of them."

"Watch it mate. They're not that kind of girl."

"Every girl is 'that kind of girl,'" Cormac said with a smirk. "And why do they always have to do that?" Cormac asked Michael. "Together? The traveling in pairs thing?"

"Maybe they want to talk about us," Michael said miserably.

"Well, I can see why they'd want to talk about me, but why would they want to talk about you?" Cormac joked, punching Michael lightly on the arm.

Because I took advantage of one of them about a week ago, Michael thought, giving Cormac a sour look. "I hate to think what's going to happen to you when you get old and lose all your hair and get a paunch," Michael said. "Because then you'll just be a dirty old man."

"S'not gonna happen, mate. I don't make it a regular habit of eating at the Leaky. As for the hair?" He shuddered. "There are potions for that."

"Right. No potions for your personality, though." Michael looked miserably at the door through which the sisters had gone. He felt awful; he'd never meant to muck up a friendship, and it seemed that he had done just that. He desperately wished that he could rewind life and go back to what they'd had before. But then I wouldn't know how soft her lips are, or how she felt under my hands, or the sound she makes when she gets pulled close, he thought. And how is this train of thought helping me?

"I'm offended. Are you saying there's a deficit in my personality?" He wore an expression of false hurt for a moment. "You know, we all can't be absolute paragons of virtue like yourself."

"Trust me, I'm not," Michael replied testily. He turned to tell Cormac the whole story, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught Parvati and Padma coming back to the table. At Cormac's questioning look, he said. "Later. We'll discuss it later."

Cormac groaned. "I hate later." He plastered a smile on and both he and Michael stood up as the girls reached the table and sat down.

"Cormac?" Padma asked. "May I call you Cormac?" He nodded. "Parvati tells me that the two of you ran into each other the other day." She took her napkin and placed it in her lap as the waiter was beginning to serve their meals.

Cormac smiled at Padma. Yes, they're twins. Deal with it. Stop thinking about it. "Yes we did, actually. I was out shopping for my-" he swallowed "-girlfriend and I came face to face with your beautiful sister here. I found some fabulous lingerie and even managed to find a suit and a pair of shoes for myself--all during my lunch."

Padma smiled politely and nodded.

Michael rolled his eyes. "Only you could go out to pick up something for a woman and end up with a load of stuff for yourself."

"He did look fabulous in the suit," Parvati offered.

"I'm sure," Michael said, smirking.

"How've you been, then, Michael?" Parvati asked, suddenly looking at Padma and looking away again quickly. She was getting a strange feeling from her twin, not the calm demeanor that Padma usually exuded, but more agitated and restless, and although no one else might have noticed, Parvati couldn't help it. It did explain why Padma had asked her to keep whatever she might See this afternoon to herself. "Morocco was a smashing success on the legal end, Padma said," she finished, smiling brightly.

Michael cleared his throat. "Fine. All I did was translate your sister's words." And violate her. He tried a smile.

"You're being far too modest, Michael," Padma managed to say. "The trip would have been terrible without you." And your lips. And hands. She almost smiled. Oh. And the mention of a girlfriend. That part was pretty horrid.

Michael looked up to find Padma actually making eye contact. He held her gaze, and then said, "Thanks, Padma." He ran a hand through his hair. "But sometimes I muck things up more than help them along. I truly hope that wasn't the case."

Oh! She hadn't expected him to refer to what had happened. "No, things are fine. Your help in Morocco was appreciated. I don't think you did any irreparable damage." She smiled briefly and turned her attention to her salad.

Michael nodded. "That's good news."

Parvati squinted at them. "Is this some sort of Ministry code talk that I don't understand?" she asked with a giggle.

Padma forced a laugh. "Something like that. You know the code, right, Cormac?"

Cormac raised an eyebrow. "The Code? Excuse me?" Michael kicked Cormac under the table. Cormac scowled. "Oh. The Code. Yes, Parvati, it's a super top-secret code that only Ministry employees know. It's used when you're trying to to bore the people you're lunching with to death." he answered, sending a glare to Michael.

Parvati laughed. "How could we possibly be bored with such charming dining companions?" she asked flashing a smile at Cormac and Michael. "Cormac, I didn't ask. How did Miss Parkinson like the things you bought her? Did she find them satisfactory?"

"You know, Parvati, I'd have to say she found them very satisfactory, thank you." Cormac smiled a self-satisfied grin. "You have great taste. You can pretty much count on me buying every piece of lingerie you create in the future. For Pansy, of course," he added with a wink.

Michael rolled his eyes and pulled a face, glaring at Cormac. "Is there any way you could be more smug?"

Cormac broke out in laughter and replied, "Yes, probably."

Parvati giggled again. "You two are adorable. Don't you love them, Padma?"

"Completely," she said with a tight smile. If you care for self-absorbed pretty boys and men who already have girlfriends.

****
After they finished their lunch and were back on the street, Parvati turned to Padma with a questioning expression on her pretty face. "Do you want to tell me what that was all about, sister dear?"

"It's not one of my prouder moments." She couldn't meet Parvati's eyes. "I wouldn't want you to think less of me."

Parvati's face fell. "You know, there's nothing you could ever do that I would think badly of you," she said in a rare serious moment. "Whatever happened between you and Michael isn't anything that can't be overcome, Padma."

Padma sighed. "While we were in Morocco, we kissed." She raised her face and looked at Parvati. "And he's in a committed relationship."

"I see," her sister replied. "So there's nothing that's going to come of it, then?"

"We were drunk, Parvati. It doesn't matter if I do want something to come of it. He's taken," she said, her voice trailing off.

"Oh," said Parvati in realization. "Oh. Oh, Padma I'm sorry."

"I am, too." Padma offered Parvati the biggest smile she could muster.

Parvati fiddled with the handle of a carrier bag as she said, "I know a really sweet guy that could help you take your mind off of him?"

"No. Unequivocally and emphatically no," she said, glancing in the direction that Cormac and Michael had gone. "But thanks, sweetie. I know you mean well."

************

Michael was scowling at Cormac as they walked up the street. "Don't assume I want to have lunch with whatever pretty women you happen to meet from now on, mate, huh?" he said peevishly, kicking at a clod of dirt littering the sidewalk.

"So just because you're dating Susan you can't even look at other women anymore?" Cormac looked upon Michael with disdain. "Merlin, what the hell crawled up your arse?"

"Whether or not I'm dating Susan is rather up to her at the moment. I made a little mistake in Morocco," he said, eyeing Cormac, "with Padma, ironically enough, and Susan was none too pleased when I told her about it."

Cormac stopped abruptly. "What?" he asked. "You didn't." His eyes went wide. "Michael, you sly dog. You shagged Padma? Bloody hell!"

"I did not shag her, you arse!" Michael exclaimed with a disgusted expression. "I kissed her."

"So she's an awful kisser, then? Is that why lunch was so awkward?"

"No. No, she's not an awful kisser." Michael shook his head. "Don't you and Pansy talk at all?" he asked under his breath. Directing his gaze at Cormac, he continued, "We've been friends since we were kids, and she tells me on our trip that she'd always fancied me, and then we had a few one night and it happened." He glanced away. "Susan's hurt."

"You told Susan?" Cormac's eyebrows disappeared under his fringe of bangs.

"Yeah, you know what?" Michael asked Cormac incredulously. "You and Pansy are perfect for each other."

"Thanks, mate." He clapped Michael on the back. "I'm starting to think that myself."

{Summary: Michael and Cormac have an uncomfortable lunch with Padma and Parvati.}

Advice is seldom welcome

2008-06-08T07:58:20Z

"Mistress. Mistress, you've a visitor."

Pansy awoke with a start, Cormac's arm lying comfortably across her middle, and looked up to find Beren standing at her bedside.

"Mistress is awake."

"Was that not the goal of you hissing in my ear?" Pansy growled sleepily in a whisper so as not to wake Cormac.

"Mistress has a visitor," Beren repeated.

"So you've mentioned, elf. Who is it? Or shall we play a game of 'Slam Beren's Fingers in a Drawer' until you tell me?"

"Mr. Corner is waiting downstairs."

"Michael. Well, it's not me, then." Pansy turned and put her hand on Cormac's shoulder.

Beren spoke quickly. "No, Mistress. Mr. Corner asked for you specifically."

"What's that?" Cormac asked, his voice thick with sleep.

"Nothing, darling," Pansy replied. "I'm going downstairs for a bit. Michael's here."

"Want me to come too?" he asked sleepily, half-heartedly rising up on an elbow.

"No, I'll see what he wants and send him on."

Cormac laid his head back down heavily on the feather pillow. "'kay. Come back to bed soon," he pouted.

Pansy leaned over to kiss him before she unwillingly left the warmth of their bed. Pulling on a dressing gown, she padded down the stais, running her fingers through her hair and stifling a yawn.

When she entered the sitting room, she saw Michael immediately, sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands. Approaching him, she gave him a hasty once-over. "No blood. You don't appear to be injured. I would hope for a bleeding head wound if I'm to be awakened and dragged from my bed at three a.m."

"What?" Michael asked. "No, I'm alright," he said distractedly.

Pansy studied him. His expression, his posture, his entire demeanor, seemed- desolate. That concerned her a bit. She sat next to him and put her hand gently on his knee. "What is it, Michael?"

Michael exhaled sharply. "You know how you got to have my sister when we were at Hogwarts? How she looked out for you, and gave you advice?"

This is about Merry? Odd. "Yes," she replied warily.

"I didn't have her, then. I needed her then, and you got to have her. I need her now, but I can't go to her because she's dead. I can't go to her for help. The closest thing I have to a sister is you."

Pansy raised an eyebrow. "You're clearly distressed, so I'm going to pretend that you didn't just call me a 'thing'." She sighed. "Do you need help, darling?" she asked in a softer tone.

"Desperately," Michael whispered.

Pansy's eyebrows raised. "What do you need? Money? Somewhere to hide? Somewhere to hide a body? What, darling? Tell me. The suspense is killing me."

Michael smiled wanly. "Advice. I think I might've messed up, Pansy."

Frowning, she asked, "How so?"

After an explanation, wherein Michael gave a lot of information in a very short period of time, Pansy rose, poured him a brandy, turned to take it to him, thought better of it, then picked up the entire tray, decanter and all, and set it before him. Handing him a glass, she asked, "So you are apparently in a committed relationship," she said in a derisive tone, "with Susan, had a few too many and kissed Padma Patil." She poured herself a tumbler and sank back against the couch. "You know you do that rather a lot, get drunk and kiss people you oughtn't."

"Pansy. Not helping."

Pansy scoffed. "You wanted sisterly advice, darling. This is it. If you think Merry would've been different, you're wrong." She put down her glass. "So really, darling. What's the problem?"

"I kissed Padma! That's the bloody problem, " he said angrily.

She watched him, non-plussed. "Is the problem that you kissed her, or that you want to do it again?"

"What?" he asked. "No! Susan- I-she- This is going to be awful for her to hear."

"Why would you tell her, Michael? It will only hurt the mousy little thing. I think it's terribly selfish of you to tell her that just to assuage your own guilt." She looked at him. "Unless you want to end it with her."

Michael shook his head. "I don't." Do I? "I don't."

Pansy looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Darling, trust me. Women don't appreciate being stepped out on. Cormac may have very well done so, but he's had the decency not to tell me about it, and he's been discreet, because if I ever did hear that... there wouldn't be enough pain in the world for me to inflict upon him, no matter how much I-" She shook her head. "But I digress."

Michael looked confused.

She waved a hand airily. "That's neither her nor there. You. And Susan. Or, you and Padma." She looked at him expectantly.

"I was drunk, Pansy."

She scoffed again. "Uh huh. Some of the best decisions I've ever made have happened while drunk. Your point?"

He looked at his shoes. "Padma got upset. She doesn't want to see me outside of work."

Pansy frowned. "Why not? Are you a bad kisser? Cormac never said."

Michael closed his eyes. "Pansy," he implored.

Rolling her eyes, she sighed. "Yes, yes, alright. So the Patil girl - the Ravenclaw one or the Gryffindor one?"

The pretty one. "Ravenclaw."

"Ah," she continued. "The Patil girl says she doesn't want to see you. How did you end it with her, then? After you kissed her, presumably well, I hope."

"I apologized. Because I shouldn't've. Because of Susan."

Pansy pursed her lips. Susan. "Let me see if I understand this, darling boy. You kissed her, and then apologized, and then brought up your girlfriend." She chuckled. "It's amazing that I never fell for you, Michael Corner. You're quite the Casanova."

Michael glared at her. "If you're not going to help-"

She held up her hands. "Alright, I'll stop." She reached for his hand again and held it. "What do you think you should do?"

He sighed. "I have to be honest with Susan. I have to. I can't continue on, it would be like lying to her."

"Like lying. But not actually lying."

"Same difference."

"I assure you, Michael, it is not. Slytherins get taught this in first year."

"I have to make things right."

Pansy sighed. "Alright. And after you 'make things right'?"

Michael shrugged. "I don't know."

Pansy patted him. "Well, go do whatever it is that you feel you must, and give it a good think. You'll know what you want eventually. And if one of those girls need some persuading, you know where you can find me, yeah?"

Michael nodded. "Yeah."

"But not in the middle of the night, darling because... ugh," she said with a disgusted expression. "At a decent hour, next time, please." She gave him a small smile. "You can stay here for the night, if you like. Beren can show you to a room?"

He nodded. "Okay."

She snapped her fingers, gave Beren the particulars, bid Michael goodnight, then watched as the elf led him off. She finished her brandy, and then his. Pansy sighed heavily. She didn't know all the particulars or even how Michael felt about these girls, but she did know one thing. She would be very cross with someone who hurt Michael Corner. Very cross indeed.

{After Michael makes a mistake, he turns to Pansy for advice. Mercy is really not one of her stellar qualities.}

Business...

2008-06-08T07:48:19Z

As far as assignments for work went, Michael had to say that the past week had been one of the most pleasant experiences he'd had in months. Maybe ever. With the exception of that very awkward moment outside of their hotel rooms the first night they'd been in Morocco, it had been great, Michael thought. They were friends. Padma was easy to talk to, very clever, and the fact that she was beautiful didn't matter at all. Much.

He left his room and went next door, knocking softly on the door. "Padma? Ready to go?"

Padma was having the most delicious dream, made even better by the fact that the details were so vivid. And then she jerked awake, realized she had overslept, and really was hearing Michael's voice, not dreaming it. She threw back the covers and jumped out of bed, searching in vain for her robe. Deciding she was decent enough for Michael, she opened the door with an embarrassed look on her face, and took in his appearance with a grin. As usual, Michael was the epitome of a well-dressed businessman with a perfectly knotted blue silk tie that matched his bright eyes, and a smart suit that complimented his very fit frame. "Michael. I'm so sorry. I overslept. Give me just a minute?"

Friends, We're friends, he thought futilely, taking in the whole picture of a sleep-rumpled Padma, tousled hair, slightly swollen lips, eyes that hadn't quite opened properly, and a short, white cotton nightie. Michael caught himself staring at the back of Padma's thighs as she headed toward the bathroom.

"Come on in, I'll be quick, alright?" she called over her shoulder.

Michael inhaled deeply and closed the door, crossing over to take a seat on the bed. He glanced behind him at the spot that she'd just obviously vacated, and had a thought flash through his mind of hands fisting sheets, his lips on the long column of her neck, and limbs intertwined. He shot up off the bed as if he were burned.

"Hey, Padma?" His voice was a touch higher than normal.

"Yes?" Padma asked, grabbing a towel.

"Going to go get some breakfast downstairs. Do you want me to bring you a muffin?"

Padma stuck her head out of the dressing area. "Would you mind?"

"Sure," he replied, not quite making eye contact. "Want me to bring it back up?"

"Please?" she answered, and Michael left the room.

She hurried through her shower and dressed just as quickly, opening the door on Michael's first knock. She pulled him into the room and smiled at his offering, a muffin and a cup of tea, prepared just how she liked it. She took the food and gestured him into her room. She sat at the small table by the window and ate the muffin as quick as she dared in his company and ran to brush her teeth.

"Okay, I'm ready," she said, hurrying to him. "Thanks for waiting. You, Michael, are a sweetheart."

"Yes, well," he said, smiling, "there's nothing to translate if you're not there, eh? I don't know anything about the law."

"You do have a point there," she said. "Now, what do you say we get going? Care to be a gentleman and apparate us?"

He nodded and extended his arm. "Hold on tight."

They arrived at the Moroccan Ministry and entered the meeting room, where they took the same seats they had all week. Michael greeted the Moroccan Lawyer per Padma's request and they started the day.

Padma had always found the law to be fascinating, but with Michael whispering it in her ear all morning, it took on an entirely new meaning. She was amazed at the ease with which he translated the different conversations, not only the ones that Padma was directly involved in, but even a few more gossipy ones that were going on that an average interpreter would have missed out on. She learned that the Moroccan Ambassador was cheating on his wife with his kitchen help and that the gentleman from Egypt thought she was lovely.

Most importantly, she decided that whatever cologne it was that Michael wore was the best one ever created, and that she could live the rest of her life with him whispering to her. She came to the conclusion she needed to get out more when she started wishing for people to converse longer so that she'd have more opportunities to have Michael's face near hers. She hoped the fact that she was looking at Michael more than the Moroccan Minister wasn't noticed by anyone.

Usually, for Michael, work was work. He didn't usually bother with translating all the peripheral conversations that went on about the room in which he was working, but he had fun with Padma, she seemed to enjoy that quite a bit more than the legalese. He had tailored the conversations down a little, and left most of what the Egyptian prat had said. He hadn't lied, exactly, but didn't feel Padma needed to know in which position he'd like to have her. Michael had looked at the man and told him in no uncertain terms to fuck off, all with a pleasant expression plastered on his face, so that Padma wouldn't be any wiser.

Shortly after that incident, they went to lunch alone, the Moroccan Ambassador apologizing profusely for staying in his office through the lunch hour for the first time that week. Michael was relieved, frankly. When the foreigners went to eat with them, that meant he got no break at all. He leaned back in his chair at the restaurant she'd chosen, grateful for just getting to have his own words, not anyone else's. Thinking about the proceedings that they'd been through that morning, he gazed at Padma across the table and asked, "How do you think it's going?"

"Fabulously," she said, grinning. "I'm learning so much--and I really am enjoying myself." She looked up at him over her menu. "You are amazing. I knew you were talented, but Michael, really. You have a gift." She paused when she a light blush stain his cheeks. "I'm sorry," she said, not at all sincere. "Did I just embarrass you?"

"Only a little," he said, smiling.

She smirked. "I can see I'll have to work harder next time." She took a sip of her ice water. "Now, tell me truthfully, are you terribly bored?"

"Truthfully?" he asked. "I can honestly say it's the most fun I've had working in months," he said with a shrug. "It's going to be a wrench to have to go back to translating for short, fat, swarthy, bald men after spending so much time with you."

"You really do say the kindest things." She noticed that his bangs had fallen over his eyes, and her fingers itched to push his hair out of the way. Not for the first time today she reminded herself that he was off limits--someone else's boyfriend. Damn that, reality. Why was she always too late? she wondered. "Although, you probably don't have to worry about the men flirting with you this much," she said with a demure smile and reached out and patted his hand.

"I'd be absolutely horrified if they did, although now that I think about it, that Mr. Gelfing from Magical Games and Sports can be a little handsy."

Well, Mr. Gelfing certainly has good taste. I'm jealous of his hands.

He watched her withdraw her hand from his and looked up to her smiling face. His eyes fell on her mouth as usual, and he bit back a laugh, passing a hand over his face in embarrassment. "Padma?"

"Mmm?"

"You have something in your teeth. Spinach, perhaps?"

"Oh!" Her hand shot over her mouth, and she discreetly removed the green leaf of spinach. "Sorry for the view! Thanks for telling me. Don't you hate it when people don't? Once at Hogwarts, I went through an entire class period with the hem of my skirt tucked into my waistband and no one said a word. Can you believe that?" She groaned at the memory.

Michael sucked in a deep breath of air at the thought of Padma's bum exposed for all the world to see, and reached for his water, knocking it over in the process. "Damn it," he muttered, embarrassed again in front of her. What a complete idiot.

He mopped up the mess as best he could with his napkin and looked at her. "No, I don't recall that particular day at school. That I would've remembered."

She laughed. "We're quite the pair, aren't we? We're a walking 'what not to do out in public' advertisement. Why don't I drop my chicken into my lap and you tip horribly, and we'll have everything covered."

Michael laughed and gazed across the table, nodding in agreement. She thought he was a complete idiot. Way to go, Corner, he thought to himself. Impressive.

******************

The afternoon found them back in the board room at the Moroccan Ministry, where the barrister speaking for the foreign wizards actually spoke English. Michael sat back complacently as he watched Padma work. A myriad of emotions went across her face in moments; she was forceful and funny, flirty and kind. She seemed to know exactly what the other side wanted to hear. Fortunately for Michael, this gave him some free time, and his mind wandered. His thoughts strayed to Susan. He found that he missed her sweet face, and regretted having to leave so soon after he'd arrived at her place earlier in the week. Susan, he thought, closing his eyes briefly and seeing her hair and face, her smile.

As he watched Padma work, it was as if he were watching with no sound; she gesticulated and was expressive, making her points known and convincing the other side that she had the correct point of view. Eventually, his imagination gave way, and intead of Susan, he saw Padma in his mind's eye looking at him and taking her hair down out of the twist in which she kept it and shaking it out, running her hand through the silken tresses- something he'd always wished he could do. He blinked as she sat on the board table in front of him, her legs resting on the arms of his chair as she slowly unbuttoned her blouse, and dragged him more closely to her by his tie. He felt her grab his hands and guide them to her breasts as he bent his head to kiss her neck, exposed as her head was thrown back in pleasure. He made his way up to her mouth and was pleased to hear his name on her lips-

"Michael?"

She tried again. "Michael? We're done here. Could you help me say my goodbyes?"

He was jerked back to reality, and he could feel the heat creep up in his cheeks. Her hair was up, her blouse completely the way it was supposed to be, and she looked confused rather than passionate. He shook his head, murmured his apologies to the people that had been waiting for him to snap out of his reverie, and said goodbye to all the people in the room. He waited while she shook hands with a few people, and then, allowed her to lead the way out of the office.

*************

Later that night, at dinner, Padma apologized. "I'm sorry that was so dry, Michael. You were obviously bored silly. I bet you can't wait until we're back home and not with each other constantly." She smiled but the thought was anything but pleasant. This week had been fabulous. The work was rewarding and Michael's company had been wonderful.

He didn't answer her, but smiled lopsidedly and grabbed the sommelier like a lifeline, pointing to a bottle of wine on the menu. He paused, and then asked Padma, "I'm sorry, do you have a preference?"

Padma shook her head, so he ordered and sat back, glancing at the menu. "Hungry?" he asked. "The afternoon session went rather late."

"It did run late, didn't it? I was happy for the chance to get everything done ahead of schedule though. Now we can go home tomorrow and still have a day of the weekend to enjoy. And yes, as a matter of fact, I am very hungry." For more than just food. Her cheeks reddened at the thought. The sommelier returned with their bottle of wine, opened it, and poured it for them after offering the cork's aroma to Michael. The waiter appeared shortly after and took their orders. Padma truly was ravenous and requested a salad, a bowl of soup and the eggplant parmesan.

Padma sat nursing her glass of wine and listening to Michael's small talk. He was a joy to be around; his self-deprecating manner put her at ease, and they got on famously. Now if only they had taken this trip a few months ago when he wasn't involved in a relationship. It always seemed to Padma that she was a few steps behind--always playing catch up. She wondered if Susan Bones knew what she had, and with a sadness she was surprised to feel, she realized yes, she probably had a very good idea of how terrific Michael was. A part of her despised herself for sitting here at dinner with another woman's man wishing he were hers. And then there was the part of her that didn't care, the part that simply wanted this handsome man with the heart-melting smile sitting in front of her, and to hell with the repercussions. Am I truly that selfish? she wondered. It's not as if I'd force myself on him or anything. He can make his own decisions. He is a grown man.

She eyed him from across the table with a penetrating gaze, still lost in thought. His suit jacket was off and slung on the back of his chair, his sleeves were rolled up, showing his lean yet muscled forearms, his long fingers wrapped around the delicate stem of his wine glass....

"Padma?"

He tried again, smiling at her. "Padma?"

She blinked slowly several times and Michael watched as her eyes moved from his hands to his face. He grinned at her. "I lost you for a moment, there, didn't I?"

"Oh! Yes, sorry. The wine's doing its job already, it seems." And I've been caught staring. Way to go, Padma, you stalker. "What were you saying?"

"Just that I paid the bill; do you want to go to the bar in the hotel?" Michael asked, wondering what had been on her mind. She'd looked... troubled.

"Definitely, Mr. Corner," she said as he helped her on with her coat. "I believe I need to prove I'm not a lightweight, don't I?" Her grin was large and genuine.

"We'll see about that," he replied. "I'll believe it when I see it."

******

A few hours later had them laughing and reminiscing in the corner of the hotel bar. Michael was feeling very good, it had been awhile since he'd really let himself have a few, or more than a few as the case may be, and his face was flushed and he hadn't quit smiling for the past half hour, he was sure.

"...And then Flitwick turned around and said, 'Use your charms elsewhere, Mr. Corner!'" Michael said in an uncanny imitation of the tiny little professor. He laughed and passed his hand over his face, his dimple deepening. "I'd never been so mortified in all my life."

Padma laughed until she felt lightheaded. "I can't believe you did that!" She raised an eyebrow. "Now what I want to know is, have you ever 'used your charms' in that manner again?" She reached out and ran her fingers down the side of his face, his dimple proving to be just too irresistible. "More importantly, how can I get a demonstration?"

Michael leaned forward into her hand involuntarily and closed his eyes. Her touch was soft and light, and not for the first time that day he wondered what it would feel like other places. His head spun pleasantly from the drinks, and he had that unconquerable feeling that he got when he drank scotch. He smiled again, and when he opened his eyes, he was staring into the depths of Padma's green-grey irises. At that moment it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to bridge the small gap between them and capture her lips with his own.

The moment they touched, it was if a blaze had started in his lips, and spread immediately to his extremities. His head spun, and he reached for her, grasping her waist and pulling her more closely to him, splaying his hands on her lower back, his fingertips contacting slightly. She was soft and warm and he could feel her hand twining in the back of his hair, causing him to make a growling noise in the back of his throat. His tongue swept against her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth, much to his delight.

Feeling fuzzy from the alcohol, Padma tried to commit the kiss to memory even as she deepened it. She wondered why this had never happened before and moaned softly as her tongue made contact with his. She felt as if a colony of butterflies had been released in her stomach as their tongues began to duel for dominance, and she moved her hands down the hard plane of his back, happily sighing as it felt even better under her hands that she had imagined.

Yes, yes, yes, oh, bloody hell, yes, Michael thought, and pulled Padma closer to him, exhaling sharply as her breasts grazed against his chest. He took her bottom lip between his teeth and tugged gently, enjoying the sound that she made, and then reached up behind her and pulled the pins from her hair, plunging his fingers into it as it's heavy weight hit her back. She felt so good, she melted into him, and she smelled delicious, like lilies and vanilla, and something else that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Padma wasn't sure if this was a dream similar to the one she had this morning or if it were really happening. The kiss was still escalating; it was glorious in its intensity, and just when she was beginning to wonder whether she felt faint from the lack of oxygen or too much wine, he pulled away and began to nuzzle at a spot directly beneath her jaw which made her gasp. She let her hands drift lower down his back, her fingertips gently tracing a horizontal line below his belt. He moved his lips back to hers and she decided that kissing Michael was a singular experience, one that she dearly hoped would be repeated.

All those years. Years of her being this close. Why haven't I ever done this? Why haven't I done this this week? he thought, trying to come up with a way to get her upstairs. Less clothes were needed, and he wanted desperately to see what his hands had mapped out.

He pulled back and looked at her, kiss swollen lips, hair that was unbelievably sexy tumbling over her shoulders, and a flush staining her cheeks. He was about to speak, try to say something clever and suave. He glanced at the table, littered with glasses from their evening, and it was if someone had dipped him in a vat of ice water.

Susan. Oh, Merlin. Susan. "Padma, I-" He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm so sorry. I've completely taken advantage of you. I can't-" His head was woozy and he wasn't sure if the sick feeling in his stomach was from all the drinks he'd had or the fact that he'd done something horrible to his girlfriend. "I shouldn't have kissed you." Padma's face fell, and she sat back slightly. Michael quickly amended, "not that I didn't enjoy it very, very much, because I did, honestly, but I have to- I have- Susan," he finished lamely.

Padma was positive this was the most humiliated she'd ever been. She'd gone from being so completely aroused to the point of forgetting her name, to wanting to crawl under the table and die, all in the space of a few minutes. Her hand went on its own accord to her face, her fingertips brushed her lips, still warm from the kiss, and she thought she felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She stood up suddenly, reaching for her purse and her cloak in the same movement. She didn't trust her voice to speak, but she knew Michael and that he'd blame himself for both of their actions. "I'm an adult, Michael. You didn't do anything I didn't want you to." She sighed, and tossed some money on the table. "But yes, you have your Susan." She forced herself to look at him and noticed his hair--rumpled by her fingers, his lips--red and slightly parted, his tie loosened and his shirt untucked. Dear God, did I do that? The tears were coming fast and she needed to get away. "I'll see myself home in the morning, alright? It's probably for the best if we don't see each other outside of work again."

She walked quickly out of the hotel bar, her tears flowing freely the moment she had turned her back on Michael. She had gotten too entirely carried away and wondered just how she had thrown her morals out the window so quickly. Michael had been completely upfront with her about Susan. What kind of awful person was she? She unlocked the door to her room, dropped her purse and cloak on the floor, kicked off her shoes and climbed into bed, still fully clothed.

***

Michael sat where she'd left him, his head on the table, his eyes closed. What came over me? he thought. When did I lose all sense of propriety and self-control? He banged his head on the table a few times and raised up, putting his face in his hands. He'd ruined a friendship. He'd hurt a friend, who evidently didn't want anything to do with him any longer. That, in and of itself, left what felt like a big, gaping hole in his chest. He'd hurt Padma. Padma, he thought. Padma, who had been his friend since before he was fully aware of girls. Padma, who'd been there through all of his girlfriends, who he'd complained to, who'd offered him advice on a myriad of topics, from girls to gobstones, who'd helped him with his homework and brought him soup when he was sick.

"Perfect," he mumbled through his fingers. "I'm an arse."

He raised his head up and had an even worse thought than that. Susan. He closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. What am I going to tell Susan?

He put his head back on the table. None of this was good. None of it.

{Summary: Michael and Padma share a last day (and evening) in Morocco. They might have made a mistake.}

Old friends

2008-06-08T07:23:27Z

Padma and Michael sat together in the hotel restaurant enjoying their meal in companionable silence. It had been an exhausting day and Padma was relieved she had made it through the first part of her assignment for the Ministry without messing it up. She took a bite of her French onion soup and sighed. "Mmm. There's nothing like comfort food after a day like today," she said. "I'm so glad that you were the one assigned to come on this trip with me. I would have been so uncomfortable with someone I don't know whispering in my ear all day long." She laughed and reached out for Michael's hand resting on the edge of the table and gave it a squeeze.

Michael smiled at Padma, and then started chuckling. "You know what? It's confession time."

"Oh, really?" She smiled and scooted her chair closer to the table. "Please, share."

"You know I'm the head of my department? And as such, I'm the one that hands out assignments?" He shot her a sheepish look. "You looked like the most fun of the bunch," He shrugged.

"Ha! Talk about abusing your power," she joked.

Padma had adjusted beautifully to the interpretation process, Michael had to admit. There were some people who simply could not listen and talk at the same time, thus dragging out the work to twice the length it would normally take, but Padma had been brilliant. She never missed a beat and had been thorough and professional. He'd forgotten just how very smart she was, being the type that didn't flaunt her knowledge. He'd also forgotten apparently, as he looked across the table at her, just how unbelievably beautiful she was. Her smile lit up the entire room.

She looked down at the table briefly and then back at Michael. "I really appreciate it, Michael. I can't tell you how nervous I was about this trip; it's my first big assignment."

"Truly, it was all my pleasure. You're very easy to work with, and a hell of a lot easier on the eyes than some of the wizards I work with. Gerard Hipworth is a nice enough bloke, but his chronic halitosis makes you want to crawl under the table."

She pushed her food away with a twinkle in her eyes. "What do you say we go do something fun? I'm finished for the day."

"See? I knew I picked you for a reason. Old Hipworth would have never asked me to do something fun," he said with a chuckle. "What did you have in mind?"

"Hmm... I haven't been out with anyone except Parvati for awhile. I don't think you'd be up for a night of trying on clothes, would you?" She held up a hand to show she was kidding. "We could go check out the bar near the lobby," she suggested. "Or, and this is my favorite option, we could grab a bottle at the bar and take it up to my room and play drinking games like we used to at school." She looked at Michael and winked. "I bet I can still drink you under the table, Corner."

Michael pulled a face. "You have delusions of grandeur, Patil," he said leaning in. "Time has blurred the edges of what actually transpired in Ravenclaw. I think one of us got carried upstairs to bed on more than one occasion, and it wasn't me."

Padma burst into laughter, but tried to stifle it as she saw a few people look on from other tables. "Let me do a little confessing now." She looked up at Michael, blushing slightly. "Pretending to pass out is the best way to get closer to a cute boy."

Michael's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "You didn't! Padma Patil! And they say Parvati is the wild one." He laughed and sat back in his chair. "I had no idea, " he said, still chuckling. "Although I'm not terribly good at reading people, so it makes perfect sense." He was still smiling, but a confused look crossed his face. He'd never even guessed that she'd looked at him that way. "You wanted to get closer to me? I'm floored."

"Yes, well, telling you outright probably would have been a better idea." She gave an embarrassed smile. "But what girl wants to tell the object of her crush that she likes them? This girl certainly didn't." She fiddled with her necklace.

Michael dropped a galleon and a few knuts on the table to cover the bill and stood, holding out his arm. "Well, it's terribly bad luck that I missed my window, eh?"

Padma smiled shyly. "Perhaps you should look at it as more of a revolving door than a window," she said as she took his arm.

They made their way upstairs to their rooms, and stopped in front of Padma's door.

It was true that Michael wasn't good with people, but he certainly knew an invitation when he heard one. He blinked at Padma. "You have got to be joking. I've been single for the better part of three years; now I have a girlfriend and you're telling me this? You're killing me, Padma. Killing me."

Padma looked down at her shoes as the color rose in her cheeks. Oh no. Yes, the girlfriend. "I'm so sorry, Michael. That was completely out of line. I wasn't thinking."

Michael put his finger under her chin and raised it gently until her eyes met his. "Please don't apologize. I always really fancied you, too. I used to get very cross with other blokes in the common room that would make crass comments about you and your sister, which completely confused me. You are clearly the prettier of the both of you."

"What are you talking about?" she said, trying to keep her voice level.

"Well," Michael replied, "you're identical twins, right?"

"Yes, of course."

Michael shook his head. "I don't think so. Your personalitites make you different. You were always so much more attractive than Parvati, who's delightful, don't get me wrong, it's just that I always found you to be the more beautiful." He winced. "Does that even make sense?"

"It does. If I squint and turn my head to the side." She smiled a bit. "And thank you." I think.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "But I have an understanding with Susan." If I didn't, rest assured that you'd be in trouble tonight, he thought.

"Yes, Susan." She knew she shouldn't have said anything. She felt awful about that and looked anywhere but his face. The last thing she wanted was to look into his eyes and see compassion or worse, pity. "She's a lucky girl, then." She smiled, even though she didn't particularly feel like smiling. "Well, perhaps we should be turning in. There will be lots more conferencing tomorrow."

Somehow very disappointed, Michael nodded. "Right." No fun for us, then. "I should get some sleep. Switching from Moroccan Arabic to French to Tachelhit to Spanish requires a well-rested mind." He leaned in to kiss her cheek, as he'd done so many times before, but this time felt something completely different, a rush of some unnamed emotion. It caused a tightness in his stomach and his throat to constrict.

He drew back and looked at Padma, studying her face, her skin that practically glowed, her almond-shaped eyes that were such an interesting color, somewhere between green and grey, but rimmed in a deep green, and the long, dark lashes that framed them. Her expression was unreadable, although while he was watching her, she smiled softly, and his eyes were drawn to her lips, soft looking and set in a perpetual pout, perfectly shaped. Susan. Susansusansusan.

Padma reached out and squeezed his arm, trying not to think about how pleasant the hardness of his muscles felt under her fingertips. She failed, and unbidden, her thoughts turned to those strong arms of his cradling her close to his body and carrying her the short distance from the Ravenclaw common room to her room upstairs. She closed her eyes tight against the memory. "Goodnight, then," she said, her eyes open and with a smile on her face. "Thanks again for today. You were terrific."

Michael looked at her with what later he assumed was a stupid look on his face as he silently watched her go into her hotel room and close the door. He stood still for a moment, and then leaned his head forward and closed his eyes, and allowed his forehead to hit the wall several times. Stupid, Corner. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Bloody Sorting Hat fouled up when it came to you. Not clever. Not clever at all. Idiot. He sighed deeply and walked to the next room in the hall. With one last look at her door, he shook his head, and went in to begin what he was absolutely sure would be one hell of a sleepless night.

{Summary: A business trip takes Padma and Michael to Morocco. Things are revealed.}

A friendly interruption

2008-06-08T07:10:55Z

Padma picked up a file and swore softly to herself as she cut her thumb on the edge of it. She groaned indelicately as she recalled Parvati's warning as she flooed into work this morning. 'Watch out for your files, dear!' Parvarti had said. Someday she's going to give me something a bit more useful to go on, she thought. Sucking on her finger, she made her way out of the International Magical Office of Law and over towards Michael Corner's office. She didn't understand why the French were so damned stubborn about keeping to the interpretation agreements--before paperwork left a foreign ministry, it was only proper decorum to translate it into the language of the receiving party. At least Michael's always so pleasant. She reached his office and knocked quietly on the door.

Michael's head hit the desk. Four interruptions in the last hour alone. He sighed, recalling Susan's advice on how to conduct himself around his secretary, and called, "Enter," in what he sincerely hoped was not an off-putting manner.

Padma Patil opened his door and breezed in his office, looking gorgeous, put together, and somewhat preoccupied. Immediately Michael's annoyance vanished, gone at the sight of one of his oldest friends. He rose and went to greet her. "Padma. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Padma returned his friendly kiss on the cheek. "The French, Michael. They are insufferably impossible!"

He nodded. "Yes, Good for two things. Kissing and Surrendering." He was thoughtful for a moment. "And crepes."

She waved the file folder in her hand. "How am I supposed to know what to do with this document if I can't even read it? Is it too much to ask for them to be even the least bit considerate?"

"That would mean that they actually cared about the person on the other end of that file, Padma."

She paused to collect herself. "So..." she tapped Michael's shoulder playfully, "I was hoping that there might be something I could do in return for your translating this nonsense for me?" She smiled and said, "A home-cooked meal, perhaps?"

He took the file, grinning at her. "Now you're speaking my language. Have a seat, won't take a moment." He sat down behind his desk, his face a mask of concentration, got out a special set of quills and a sheaf of parchment, murmured an incantation, and the quill began to rewrite the document in English.

Looking up, he smiled at her again and flipped through the file. Michael was glad she was here. He didn't get to see many of his former Housemates, and he and Padma had always got on well. "Only a couple of moments," Michael assured her. He rose and moved to sit next to her in one of the guest chairs. "Can I offer you something? Tea? Or do you need something a little stronger to take the edge off, this morning?"

Padma laughed. "After the morning I had with Parvati, I'm not sure if you have anything strong enough. I should probably stick to the tea though, thank you." She crossed her long legs and leaned back in the chair with a sigh. "Michael, you are absolutely delightful. Why don't we see more of each other?"

Trying not to be distracted by Padma's legs, he busied himself with the tea kettle, having moved it into his office after Blonde Secretary - Amanda? Amelia? Amy?- quit. "Why don't we see more of each other? Probably because I'm out of the country all the bloody time." And seeing Susan? Should I mention Susan?

Padma rolled her eyes. "You'd think they'd want to keep you under lock and key here at the Ministry. I'd be worried someone else would snatch you up! I mean, a man with your knowledge and experience; I can't imagine there are many linguists out there with your skill."

"Job security?" He shrugged and handed her a cup. "How is that sister of yours? Still giving you fits, I suppose?"

She giggled before taking a sip of her tea. "Would Parvati be Parvati if she weren't?" She tossed her hair back over her shoulder and blew on her tea with her full lips. "She's a complete love, though. And she puts up with my fussing, so, it could be a lot worse."

Michael found that he was focusing just a bit too much on Padma's mouth, and shook his head slightly to clear it. "Everyone needs someone to put up with their fussing, eh? Besides, from what I recall, Parvati's a lot of fun. Exhausting, but fun."

Padma nodded emphatically. "Your memory is as sharp as ever." She smiled as she contemplated her next sentence. "And, Michael? How is it you get more attractive each time I see you? Do you have to beat the girls off with a stick?"

Michael laughed. "No, I'm afraid not. I am seeing someone, though. Susan Bones. Do you remember her? Hufflepuff, our year? Until we started dating each other, I hadn't had a girlfriend for months."

"For whole months?" Padma feigned shock and thought for a moment. "The name definitely sounds familiar, but I can't put a face to it. I'm sure she must be fabulous to have caught your eye."

He smiled at her, nodding, thinking of Susan. "What about you? Seeing anyone?"

"I can't say that I am. All the good men are taken, it seems," she said playfully. "But don't worry," she added. "Parvati dates enough for the both of us."

"That's a crime!" Michael exclaimed. "Beautiful girl like you? The men should be forming a queue." He glanced over at the translating quill that had likely finished its work minutes ago. Standing, he leaned over to collect the parchment and her file and handed them back to her as he was seated again. He wasn't quite ready to let her go yet. Padma was one of his oldest friends, and he didn't get to see her nearly enough, despite working on the same floor at the Ministry. "What happened to that last bloke that you were dating?"

Padma groaned at the thought. "Oh? The one who seemed perfect? Looked perfect? Perfect job?" Michael nodded. "He still lived with his parents, and not in a 'I'll take this wing of the estate' kind of way." She paused to take a long sip of her tea as it was no longer too hot. "Mmm." She smiled at Michael. "Can you imagine my horror--we were lying in bed one morning and his mother comes in to collect his laundry?"

Michael grimaced. "Oooh. That's not good. That's terrible. Maybe you should lower your standards? An ugly chap, perhaps, or one with a lower class accent?" he asked, chuckling. "As long as he has a job and lives on his own." He shook his head. "That shouldn't be. You're unbelievably beautiful and smart, Padma." He cocked his head and studied her for a moment. She was undeniably gorgeous; of course he'd always known that, but when she was sitting in front of him he was reminded of all of her features, how well they all fit together, and wondered a little at how one girl could've been blessed with so much loveliness. "Men are idiots if they aren't beating down your door," he assured her. "Some bloke's going to be lucky to find you one day."

"Thank you, Michael." She looked down at her nails and began to fiddle with the button on her suit jacket. "I'm not looking for perfection; I'm really not," she said with a smile. "But thanks. You're always so kind."

"I don't know about that." He grinned at her. "I'll keep an eye open, eh? Try to find someone suitable for one of the prettiest girls I know?"

She thanked Michael for the file he'd handed her and the tea and stood to go. "You don't have a brother somewhere, do you?" she said with wink.

He stood and walked with her to the door, shaking his head. "I don't think the world needs two of me," he replied with a small smile on his face. He kissed her cheek briefly and grinned. "Don't wait until you need something to stop by again, alright? I'm never too busy for friends."

"I'll hold you to that, then," she said, smiling.

Say hello to that sister of yours for me, alright?"

"Of course I will. And I'll owl you about dinner; I'd love to meet that girl of yours."

"Looking forward to it, Padma. Looking forward to it."

{Summary. Padma needs something translated, and goes to visit Michael.}

Cause it takes me so long...

2008-06-02T22:04:41Z

Padma stood in front of her closet and let out a sigh of disgust. All these clothes and nothing to wear? She groaned. Merlin, I sound like Parvati. She reached in and pulled out a tweed suit in slate grey and a white satin blouse. She dressed and rushed to her dresser, pulling out black silk stockings and decided on a pair of smart black pumps. Placing diamond studs into her earlobes, she rushed out of her bedroom and into the kitchen, hoping she had time for a cup of tea before she flooed to work at the Ministry.

Parvati heard her sister walk into the kitchen. She was looking out the window at the snow falling softly, sipping her tea at the kitchen sink when she felt the familiar tingling of The Sight overcome her. Without turning around, she let the trance do it's work. She froze for a moment, unable to move, and then the feeling melted away. She breathed in deeply.

"You can't wear that suit, Padma," Parvati said cheerfully. "It's a shame because you look really pretty."

"What? No. Not this morning, please. I'm running late already." She looked at Parvati. "Okay, why?"

"The man behind the counter at the coffee shop will be a pervert if you do."

"Fine. I'll skip the coffee or deal with the crass coffee shop guy." She made to grab her purse. "Wait. The cute one, or the one with the triple chin?" she paused to ask.

Parvati turned around and smiled at her sister, pouring her a cup of tea. "Triple chin, you lucky girl. Don't say I didn't warn you."

"Okay, fine. You win," she said with a good-natured huff. "You find me something then?" She walked into the corner of their sitting room--it was a comfortable spot were the girls would take their morning tea, surrounded by bookcases, a Tiffany floor lamp and a squashy armchair for each of them. She sat down and took a sip of her tea. As much as she pretended to be bothered by Parvati's revelations, she was always grateful. "And something I'd actually wear!" she called down the hall to her sister.

"Oh!" Parvati called from inside Padma's closet. "You spoil all my fun!" She pulled out a set of yellow robes, folding them over her arm, and laid a black pinstripe suit on her sister's bed.

Walking back down the hallway, she said, "You should really let me make you some things, Padma. I can do muted tones, too." She placed the yellow robes on the back of the sofa, smirking at her sister. "There you are. Perfect."

Padma raised an eyebrow. "Yellow, huh? The suit's on my bed then?" She set her tea cup down.

Parvati smiled. "Of course," she replied blithely.

Rising from her chair, she placed a quick kiss on Parvati's cheek. "Thanks, sweetie. You know I appreciate it." She grabbed the robes and headed back to her room to change. Coming out a few moments later she glanced at her sister before flooing. "Parvati?" she asked. "Could you please not have that degenerate of a man you're seeing in our flat when I get home this evening? He really makes my skin crawl, dear."

"He's all right, I swear!" Parvati said. "He's really trying to get his life together, and he only served three months on the last charge." She flopped down into her chair. "Besides. His eyes are dreamy. You have to admit it."

"Three months? What?" Her voice rose to an unpleasant screech. "He's served time? From the last charge?" She walked over to Parvati, giving her her full attention. "Sweetie, please. You're so much better than him. You can see that, right? Dreamy eyes or no?"

"He deserves a chance, too," Parvati returned in a pleading tone. "He really is trying to turn it around. And he said that he didn't steal all those Goblin-made swords, anyway. Somebody set him up." She looked at Padma, pouting a bit. "But I can go to his place if you really don't like him."

Padma collapsed down onto the arm of the chair Parvati was sitting in. Merlin, help me. "Let someone else give him a chance! Okay? Life is too short to date men like this. Please? For me?"

Parvati shook her head, smiling. "At least I date." She sat up abruptly and clapped her hands excitedly. "Oooh! Padma! Let me set you up. I know this guy. I met him at the park. He's so sweet. and he had the most gorgeous curly blond hair." She looked coyly at Padma. "He thought I was pretty, so..." she trailed off.

"No. Absolutely not. No more switching. Didn't we declare that law by sixth year?" She smiled down at Padma. "Besides, I like men with dark hair, sister dear."

Parvati pouted. "Fine, fine. But you could live with the blond hair if you saw how adorable he is," she cajoled. Seeing the expression on Padma's face, sherelented. "Alright, alright. No switching. Spoilsport."

Padma playfully swatted at Parvati's arm. "I may be a spoilsport, but what would you do without me?" Before Parvati could answer, Padma stood up with a gasp. "Work! I have to go. Have a great day, you!" She ran towards the fireplace, and stepping in to floo, she blew a kiss over her shoulder.

"You're having the chicken for lunch!" Parvati called after her. She gathered up their dishes and went back into the kitchen, humming happily.

A sure thing... (NC-17)

2008-05-30T04:39:32Z

After a long week at work, Cormac and Pansy were off to spend the weekend at his villa in Italy. It still felt crazy to think that, let alone say it out loud. When he had told Michael what Pansy had given him for his birthday, Michael had pouted and mentioned that he got clothing. Cormac had just glared at him instead of asking him what services he provided to Pansy that led him to believe he deserved more.

He stood in Pansy's closet, a suitcase open on the middle of the island. He was loathe to let the house elf pack for him as he had an unusual penchant for cravats and knickers. He packed Pansy's bags meticulously though.

Perhaps the elf dislikes me? he wondered. Wouldn't be the first time.

Finishing up, he tossed his bag next to Pansy's mountain of luggage and went off in search of her, finding her in the solarium.

Pansy looked up from the house ledgers that she'd been perusing, and dismissed the elf that stood there, waiting for instructions.

"Hello, handsome," she greeted him, smiling. "All ready to go?" She crossed the room and leaned up to kiss him. Even after he'd been at work all day, he still looked as fresh and handsome as he did when he left her in the morning. "I'm finished here."

"I am, doll." He pulled her close into his chest, smiling as he breathed in her perfume. "And I have to admit, I'm rather excited to be spending the weekend at my place." He met her gaze his eyes shining. "Although, technically we should call it our place. I can't imagine wanting to be there without you."

Our place. Pansy looked up at him and felt a fresh surge of affection for him. She didn't ever remember anyone being as kind or attentive to her as he was, and she thought not for the first time how pleased she was that he seemed to like her as much as he did.

Smiling, she said, "Well, it's yours, darling. I suppose you could take whomever you like, although I'm terribly glad you chose me this weekend."

"Well, I'll have you know, Michael did beg like a toddler to come along. I resisted successfully, however, even when he pouted," he joked. "Do you have everything you need? Are we ready? I think Beren was sending our bags ahead."

Sliding her arm inside his suit coat, and resting her hand on his waist, she nodded. "Ready."

Several seconds later they appeared in the lounge room of Cormac's villa, and Pansy was irresistibly drawn to the picture window overlooking the quaint Italian town and the countryside below. "It's absolutely beautiful here."

Cormac was watching Pansy look out the window as he replied, "It most certainly is. What would you like to do first? Shall we go dine at that one vineyard we went to last time, or should we skip straight to the good part? The wine and the sex?" He smiled charmingly.

She gave him an arch look, though there was a smirk pulling at her lips.

"You're so certain I'm a sure thing, are you?"

"I suppose I am." He winked.

She gazed at him for a moment and cocked her head to the side. "So I'm predictable?"

She sighed and slipped out of her shoes, sitting for a moment to unfasten her garters, then standing and walking slowly to the staircase, unbuttoning her blouse. Looking back at him over her shoulder, she ascended a few stairs and said, "Alright. Then I choose option number two."

She shrugged out of her blouse and laid it over the bannister. "I'm sure there's a bottle of wine and some glasses in the kitchen."

"Excellent choice, but then I've always known you're a brilliant woman. I'll check the kitchen. Probably a bit safer than Accio-ing glass. For me, anyway," he added with a self-deprecating laugh before looking longingly at Pansy. "That gives you about two minutes to prepare for the best sex of your life. Acceptable?" he asked with a wink.

She disappeared around the corner and called, "That's big talk. I need to see action." She laughed as a stocking fell on the landing.

"Okay, that's it," he called. "To hell with the wine; we'll have it after. Seems like you've called my bluff there, doll." He crossed to the landing, scooped her up in his arms and proceeded up the stairs.

"About time," she said with a smirk.

The door to the master bedroom was ajar and the covers on the bed had been pulled back. On the beside table was a bottle of wine and two wine glasses. "I love house elves," he muttered.

He set her down at the foot of the bed and immediately set to work unzipping her skirt. "You're so thoughtful, saved some for me. He helped her out of her skirt and stood back looking at her in just her bra and knickers. Cormac had seen a lot of woman in various states of undress, but no one was able to do for him what Pansy did. He could feel his pulse begin to quicken, and he smiled at her, a predator's grin, and sat down next to her on the bed. He took her in his lap and reached around her with a hand and unhooked her bra. His smile only grew wider and he had to comment. "Hello to the most perfect breasts I've ever seen."

Pansy's gave a throaty chuckle in response. He really was amusing. "They like you, too, I'm sure," she replied.

Cupping one the mounds of perfection in his hand and squeezing softly, he dipped his head and took a pert pink nipple into his mouth. Pansy arched into him and he gently pushed her off his lap and onto the bed where he climbed over her on all fours. Both of his hands were on her breasts now and he buried his face between them. "Life doesn't get any better than this, doll," he said to Pansy, his voice muffled.

"It gets a little better," she replied with an arched brow, bringing his face up to hers and kissing him. Pansy loved his lips; warm, soft and immeasurably talented, and thrilled to his touch wherever he placed them. The feeling of the slight stubble that covered his jawline brushing her skin sent shivers of pleasure through her and she thought, not for the first time, how amazing it was that neither of them had tired of the other, that he seemed as interested in her body today as he had the very first time they'd been together. Perhaps more.

She pushed at his chest lightly and he fell to the bed on his side, drawing back to gaze at her intently. She smiled. "My turn."

She brought one wrist up and then the other, removing his cufflinks and leaning across him to place them on the table, smiling when he was distracted once again by her breasts. She sat back up and placed her knees on either side of his hips, busying herself with the buttons of his dress shirt. Once open, she pressed her lips to the smooth flesh there, her fingertips dragging along the lines of his stomach muscles, stopping when she came to the waist band of his trousers.

She bit her lip, and looked at him as coyly as she was capable of. "Shall I?"

"I will if you don't."

Unbuckling his belt and slipping it from the loops, she tossed it to the side. "Oh, no, I'm not finished yet," she replied, brushing her hand along the front of his trousers, smiling at his reaction before she made short work of the button and zip on his trousers.

He lifted up his hips so she could slide the trousers and pants out from under him and down his legs, kicking off his shoes in time for her action to remain unobstructed. "Not finished yet? I'd hope not. However, you budged in line. I believe it was still my turn, and you're still wearing too much."

He got up on his knees and laid Pansy out on the bed before him, caressing her with his eyes as they roamed over her body. He wore a half small on his face, not paying attention to his facial expression as his entire consciousness was wrapped up in Pansy and what he was about to do to her body. His hands reached out for her little black knickers and traced their edges with a fingertip, watching the rise and fall of her chest as he did so. Looping his fingers in the delicate lace of the straps at her hips, he pulled them down and off, tossing them onto the floor as they were of no further consequence to him as they were no longer covering Pansy.

He crawled over her, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, slow and with meaning. He was beginning to suspect he loved Pansy, but he was totally incapable of saying it. He had even tried a few times, but he couldn't make the words come out. So he tried to channel that emotion into his kiss instead, using his tongue in an alternate manner to express what he couldn't say.

Pansy ran her hands up his sides, ending with her fingers threaded in the back of his hair, holding him firmly while he kissed her. She was surprised; Cormac was always giving, taking his time and making sure that she felt as much pleasure as she did, but this seemed to be different. He was kissing her with specific intent, the passion behind it undeniable, but not the same at all.

He raised up, propping himself on his elbow, and she looked at him, the lines of his handsome face, his blue eyes, cloudy with desire and his gorgeous shoulders, and smiled at the thought that all of it was hers.

She raked her fingernails lightly down his back and rested her hand lightly at the base of his spine. "Darling?

"Mmm?" he murmured.

"My turn again."

She reached up and kissed him again fervently, gaining momentary control over him. Enjoying his moans, she smiled against his mouth, pushing him gently until he rolled onto his back, looking up at her expectantly.

"I promise to make it worth your while," she assured him.

"You always do," he said wearing a lazy smile.

She kissed her way down his chest, her hands mapping out every contour of his frame. She stroked lightly down the muscles of his arms, ending at his hands and threaded her fingers though his momentarily before releasing them and placing her palms on either side of his hips. Lowering her mouth to him, she smiled again as she heard his sharp intake of breath and couldn't help the laugh in the back of her throat as he moaned unintelligible words while her tongue swirled in circles around him.

His fingers were tangled in her hair and he pulled her head closer to him, even as he tried not to. Her moment of laughter was almost his undoing as the vibrations caused exquisite sensations that were unmatched in precedent. And as much as he wanted to let his eyes roll up into his head, he wanted to watch Pansy even more. Freeing his fingers from her hair, he raised himself up on his elbows in a reclined position and watched her pleasure him. She was right, he thought. It does get better.

Glancing up at him, she was pleased as she saw the look of desire in his eyes. It was completely addictive, and she's do almost anthing to put it there. Giving him one last soft kiss, she sat up with a questioning look on her face. "Preference?" she asked.

"Indeed." He held his arms out to her and pulled her to him, groaning as she settled herself atop of him. "I do."

Pansy gasped at the pleasure of simply being around him, at the feeling of him, she started to move slowly, rocking against him, his hands guiding her hips and caressing her bare skin. This was exquisite torture, the slow pace, the heat of being joined, and she sighed rapturously, closing her eyes and tightening her muscles around him. "Yes," she whispered, "this."

"My favorite," he admitted on an exhale, referring to the position. He liked to be able to see Pansy, all of her, and especially like this. Pulling down on her hips, he raised his again and again, a fine sheen of sweat breaking out all over his body. He reached up to palm a breast before taking the nipple in between his fingers and rolling it. His other hand followed suit, and meeting Pansy's gaze, he felt almost as if he'd been stunned. The energy between them was undeniable, and he sat up, taking Pansy with him. In his half-lucid state, he tried again to say the words he wanted to, but couldn't.

Involuntarily, Pansy cried out. He felt absolutely incredible, and her hands found purchase in the back of his hair, tugging and pulling his lips to crash into hers, while their rhythm increased. She closed her eyes as the familiar pressure began to build from what seemed like her toes, and she struggled to maintain their positions.

"Oh, Cormac," she gasped. "Don't stop. Please, don't stop."

"I won't," he assured her, mid breath. He increased the tempo to a fevered pace, faster, and then harder too, until he wasn't holding anything back, just giving her all he thought he had to give and then a bit more.

The familiar warmth began spreading like a wildfire through her body and she threw her head back, gasping in pleasure. Pansy felt the tremors begin deep in her center, slowly traveling to completion in every part of her. She cried out once, not able to control her voice, and shuddered against him, pressing her lips to his.

He returned her kiss with bruising intensity, all of his thought focused on her, him, and where their bodies met. Remaining together, he flipped her over onto the bed and continued to piston his hips with a frenzied pace, wearing a look of concentration, almost to the point of reverence. With a low groan he came, thrusting several more times before collapsing onto his elbows above Pansy.

She had a hundred different expressions on any given day, but the one that Cormac saw when he opened his eyes had to be his favorite. It was part satisfaction, part exhaustion, and part affection, and as she locked her gaze with his, she smiled genuinely, with no artifice and touched his face, kissing him lightly.

"God, I love you," he said quietly. He swallowed, waiting for Pansy's reaction. He'd said it. He'd meant it. And for the first time in their relationship, he was no longer afraid.

A flash of surprise crossed Pansy's face before her lips curved into a smile. One hand threaded through his hair, and she brought up a finger to touch his lips. He was completely beautiful, his blue eyes staring at her intently, a lock of hair falling across his forehead. He'd made her feel safe and cared for and cherished for months. Cormac might have been the first person ever in her life to say those words and she actually believed that he meant them.

She kissed him softly and whispered, "I love you, too, darling."

He smiled as her locket popped open. Picking it up between his fingertips he looked at their pictures before closing it gently. "Thank you. I can't begin to tell you what that means to me," he murmured, his eyes intent on hers.

"I think I might have some idea," she replied, her voice low. She kissed him again, giving a little sighing moan, and smiled once more. "Besides," she said, her eyebrow raising, "I've decided to keep you."

Pansy, meet.... my uncle. Uncle, meet my.... Pansy.

2008-05-27T13:47:19Z

Cormac tied his tie for the third time, needing to get it absolutely perfect. He smoothed his hair with his hands and looked in the mirror. To say he was nervous was an understatement and an oddity rolled into one, for Cormac didn't get nervous. He fished the cufflinks Pansy had given him for Christmas out of his dresser in Pansy's closet and fiddled with them absently. He hadn't seen his Uncle Tiberias in months, he'd been on sabbatical in the United States, of all places, researching the American Wizarding practices. He didn't understand why his uncle had requested to meet with both him and Pansy, or how he knew about Pansy in the first place, but he was relieved that Pansy seemed fine with it. He scooped the cufflinks up in his hand and walked out to where Pansy was sitting at her vanity, ducking his head down to kiss the side of her neck. "Doll," he said, "would you help me with these?"

"Of course." While Pansy concentrated on fastening his cuffs, she peeked at Cormac. He seemed to be different, somehow; his breathing was erratic, and he couldn't stop moving. She finished with his shirt and stilled his hand for a moment. "Darling?"

"Mmm?" he said, clearly distracted.

"You look very handsome, you know." She adjusted his collar and smoothed his shirt. "Are you all right?"

"I'm alright, I suppose," he said and placed a kiss on her forehead. "Just a bit tense. It's just... well, my uncle and all, I hate to disappoint him, you know?"

"How would you possibly be a disappointment, darling?" she asked, leaning over to look in the mirror while putting in an earring. "And we both know I'm perfect," she said with a smirk, "So what is there to worry over? He's not awful, is he? Not like-" she waved her hand in the direction of the Parkinson Hall of Ancestors, where the portraits of her parents hung. She stood, checking her reflection. "He couldn't be that bad."

"Merlin, no. It's not like that at all, Pansy." He stood behind her and studied her reflection in the mirror. "And yes, you are perfect. And mine," he said, wrapping his arms around her.

"Hmm." She looked up at him giving him a little half smile. "Yes. I suppose I am, aren't I?" She searched his face a few more seconds before shaking her head slightly and asking, "So where are we going, then? Where does this Uncle of yours live?"

"Well, he has a flat in London, but he still keeps his Manor up by Mum's. He's watched over her since my father died. I think they may have feelings for each other," he said, turning slightly green. "Anyway, we're to meet him at Glenlivet. I'm pretty sure he owns half the place, but he's very frugal--he can spring for dinner there without it costing him anything," Cormac said with a chuckle.

"Sounds... eccentric," Pansy offered, searching for the right word. "Darling, did he say why he wanted you to bring me along?" she asked as they walked down the stairs to the entrance hall. Cormac helped her with her cloak and she turned to face him. "I'm not to be dissected, am I?" Surely he wouldn't allow that. Surely.

"Doll, he specifically asked me to bring you. But really, Uncle Tibs is as harmless as a kneazle, promise." I hope.

"Even if he weren't, I'm unconcerned. I just like being prepared. Shall we?"

Cormac took Pansy's arm and apparated them to Glenlivet Stables, inside the restaurant lounge. They had just been relived of their cloaks when the maître d' approached to them.

"Mr. McLaggen?" he asked. "Your uncle is waiting for you. Please, follow me."

Cormac looked at Pansy and reached out for her hand, threading his fingers through hers. Before they had even reached the table, Tiberias was on his feet, a big smile spreading across his face.

"Cormac, my boy!" his giant voice boomed. He pulled Cormac to him and gave him a giant slap on the back, before pulling away to grin at Pansy. "Introduce me to this vision before me, lad, before I hex you proper."

Cormac extracted himself from his uncle's grip and said, looking proud, "Uncle Tibs, this is my girl, Pansy Parkinson."

Turning to Pansy with a smile, Cormac said to her, "Pansy, this is my father's brother, Tiberias McLaggen."

"Miss Parkinson," Tiberias said, taking the hand that Pansy offered and placing a resounding smooch on the back of it, "you are even more beautiful than your pictures. It is my distinct pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Pansy's face remained placid and her lips curved into a polite smile. "I might say the same, Mr. McLaggen. Cormac speaks of you highly." She lifted her chin and stepped back beside Cormac, wondering briefly if either one of them thought that this whole meeting was surreal.

Cormac released the breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding and pulled out Pansy's chair for her. He sat down beside her and squeezed her hand beneath the table. This was the very first time he had ever introduced a girlfriend to a family member and it felt strange. Good, but strange.

Tiberias had already ordered the house speciality, and over the first course he grilled Cormac. "So, how are things at the Ministry?" Tiberias asked.

Cormac was about to respond when his uncle interrupted.

"And could you please tell me why Harry Potter was given the Head position of the MLE and not you? Did you let down Maria somehow, boy?" He had made the switch from jovial to stern in a matter of seconds.

This was the uncle Cormac knew. He was surprised they had made it to their seats before the inquisition began. "No, I didn't disappoint Madam LeGrot, Uncle. She assured me that Potter's placement as Head had nothing to do with me," Cormac said through clenched teeth.

"Four years at the Ministry and still just an undersecretary? I'd reevaluate your outlook, Cormac. Make sure there's not something that your missing. McLaggen's do not fail, son." Tiberias stuffed a piece of filet mignon in his mouth and began to chew enthusiastically.

Cormac's smile stayed firmly intact even though he was seething inside. Son., he thought. Right.. "Tibs," he began, "I have everything firmly under control." He took a long drink of his brandy that Glenlivet was famous for.

Pansy placed her fork on her plate and studied Tiberius McLaggen. She did not care for the way this line of questioning was going, or the man's tone toward Cormac. At all.

"I believe it's more to do with his name than anything else," Pansy said clearly, lifting her wine glass. "If Potter had chosen to go into The Department of Magical Games and Sports, he'd be head of that. The Ministry still bends over backwards because of his role in the war, more than the fact that he's excelled at his job," she finished, placing her hand on Cormac's thigh under the table.

Tiberius laughed and raised his glass to Pansy. "Well spoken, Miss Parkinson," he said before turning to Cormac. "Well, let me know if you need me to pull some strings, lad. I'd be more than happy to."

Cormac sighed. "I'm sure you would, but really, Uncle, things are great."

"All right, all right. Enough talk of business." He sat back in his chair and studied the couple before him. "So I've been seeing a lot of the two of you in the papers lately. I must say, you make a rather attractive couple."

Pansy turned to Cormac with a faintly amused expression and took a sip of wine.

"Thank you," Cormac said. Merlin, don't go there. Please, do not go there, Uncle.

"I just wanted a chance to meet your beautiful lady friend in person, Cormac. You don't begrudge an old man his simple pleasures, do you?"

"Not at all, Tibs." You randy old dog. Now keep your fucking eyes off Pansy's breasts and I won't have to hex you, relation or not.

Pansy watched the interplay between Uncle and nephew and smiled knowingly. Men. Such simple creatures.

****************

"I thought he was absolutely adorable, darling. I don't know what you were worried about," Pansy said, patting Cormac on the bum as she retreated to her dressing room to disrobe. "It was a delightful evening. The part where he couldn't look directly at my facewas my favorite part, I think."

Cormac scoffed. "He couldn't look you in the face because he was too busy staring at your breasts! You found that adorable? I do that all the time," he called. He loosened his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt.

Pansy exited her dressing room barefooted, and walked over to Cormac, turning her back to him. "Unzip me?" she prompted.

"Gladly," he said, reaching out with eager hands.

"And I know you do that all the time. I don't find it adorable when you do it, though."

"You don't?" His lips fell into a pout.

She let her dress fall to the floor, and turned to him, clad in only her bra and knickers, and stockings. "When you do it, I find it an incredible turn on."

Cormac let loose a growl and swept Pansy up in his arms before tossing her on the bed and pouncing on her. "Good answer, doll."

{Summary: Cormac takes Pansy to meet his Uncle Tiberius. The McLaggen men share a common trait, funnily enough.}

Who Says Money Can't Buy You Love?

2008-05-27T13:22:31Z

Pansy had the most devious smile on her face. She'd had a rash of fantastic ideas lately, but Cormac's birthday present really was the crown jewel. It had taken some thought, and then some creative convincing on other people's parts to make it into a reality, but Pansy was nothing if not persuasive. Especially when she really wanted something. And she really wanted Cormac to be happy today.

She'd said nothing about his birthday, and neither had he. Pansy supposed he would have just let it pass if she hadn't come upon the date when she was looking at their now defunct contract. She was terribly glad she had. She hoped he'd be pleased. She hoped he'd be more than pleased.

Having sent the elves ahead to get everything ready, she sat alone in her bedroom, waiting for Cormac to arrive home from the Ministry, twisting a black scarf between her hands. This was going to be fun.

Cormac bounded up the stairs, whistling; he was happy; it had been a productive day at the Ministry. Entering the door to Pansy's suite of rooms, Cormac smiled as he saw Pansy and what she was holding in her hands. "I certainly hope that's destined for me and not merely a part of your outfit you haven't donned yet." He took her in his arms and kissed her full on the mouth, his hands reached down to cup her bottom and he pulled her tight against him.

"Oh," she gasped, chuckling at his enthusiasm. "As it happens, this isfor you, she said, running the silken fabric along the back of his neck. "Want to play?"

"More than anything."

She sat him on the chaise and secured the scarf around his eyes, patting his jacket to make sure he had his wand. Leaning over and whispering in his ear, she rested her hands on his shoulders. "You know, I should be very cross with you." She dropped a kiss on the shell of his ear. "Withholding information like you have been."

"Ah. The birthday?"

"Mmm. You know you'll have to be punished, don't you? I can't just let something like that pass," she said, her voice serious, but her expression one of sheer delight.

"No, we certainly can't have that. Yes, I agree, you'll definitely have to punish me," he said, blindly reaching out for her.

She chuckled and sat on his lap, putting one arm around his neck and holding her wand with the other. "Are you ready, then?" she asked, concentrating very hard on the lounge room of the place to which they were traveling.

Cormac wrapped his arm around Pansy's back. "I'm always ready for you."

"Hold on then," she instructed, and at once the uncomfortable squeezing sensation overtook both of them, but was over in the blink of an eye, and the were sitting on the sofa in the middle of a tastefully furnished room. Pansy looked around to make sure everything was set and nodded at Beren, who bowed himself out of the room. Satisfied and smiling, she kissed him once more, then stood and untied his blindfold, saying "Happy Birthday, darling."

The vista from the window was one of lush, green rolling hills and vineyards, with the odd stone villa dotting the landscape. Pansy watched him rise and walk over to the window, the sunset washing his face in oranges and reds. She took the key to the villa out of her pocket and held it behind her back, waiting for his response.

Cormac opened his eyes and his expression of surprise turned to one of delight, a smile stretching across his face. "Is this to be our celebration spot then, doll? We did have a great time here, didn't we?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows. He looked out the windows and his smile grew even larger. "It's absolutely beautiful this time of year, isn't it?"

"It was pretty in January, too, just in a different way," she replied, moving to stand beside him. "And as far as a celebration spot, that will be up to you, I think." She held the key out for him to take. "It's yours," she said with a small smile.

His smile froze on his face and he looked down at her hand in confusion. She was handing him a key. To the villa. His villa? His jaw dropped and he reached his hand out to take the key. "You bought this for me?" Staring at the key appreciatively before pocketing it, he put his hands on either side of her face and began kissing her in earnest, his kisses punctuated with 'thank you's'. Pansy had always been generous with him, but he was beyond surprised at this gift. Pulling back from her lips he said jokingly, "You know, cufflinks would have done me just fine."

"That can be arranged as well, I suppose," she said with a smirk. "You do like it, then? It's alright?" she asked, leaning against the window sill and gesturing at the room and the grounds sprawled out behind her.

He picked Pansy up and spun her about several times, laughing as she gasped, before setting her down, looking a bit sheepish. "Is it alright? Pansy, in addition to being the most beautiful woman I've ever set my eyes on, you're fabulously generous. I love it. I'm in shock, but I love it." I love you.

Pansy's smile lit the room. "Oh, do you, darling? I'm so glad. Parvati made you some suits as well; they're in the closet," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "So." She raised an eyebrow. "You. Me. In Italy for the weekend on your birthday. What do you want to do?"

He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled at her neck. "Well, I know what I'd like to do first."

Summary: Pansy gives Cormac a villa in Italy for his birthday. He thinks the thing that she's dying to hear.

News...

2008-05-27T13:20:41Z

Cormac flooed into Pansy's sitting room, a smile on his face. He didn't normally condone leaving the Ministry at such an early hour, but he was thrilled to tell Pansy the news, and this was the kind of thing he didn't think was proper sharing via owl. "Pansy?" he called. He walked out to the solarium, where he found her with a book amongst a backdrop of yellow roses in full bloom. Taking a seat on the chaise beside her, he waited while she put her book down.

"Hello, Darling," she said, brushing the soot off his shoulder. "I never expect you this early in the afternoon.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" she asked, leaning in for a kiss.

"I had lunch with the Minister today, and she had some interesting news to tell me."

"Really?" Pansy replied drily, trying to muster up some enthusiasm for the Minister, or the Ministry, or anything having to do with the administration thereof.

"You have already made your annual reparation payment to the Ministry yet, have you?"

"Got the notification last week, the bastards. I plan on sending a rude note with it, too. They don't care, of course, as long as they have their money, but it makes me feel a bit better. However, no, I haven't actually sent it."

"Good," he said with a grin. "Because it appears that you've made your last one. You don't have to pay them another knut, doll."

She looked at him sharply. If this was his idea of a joke, it was a bloody poor one. It wasn't that she just resented the money; if asked, she'd probably donate much more than that to a worthy cause. However, making her pay for the sins of her Father was unfair.

"I'm not sure I understand what you're trying to say. The Department of Mysteries has been disbanded, then? Because I was told by Rufus Scrimgeour short of that happening, I'd be paying the yearly reparations for the rest of my life," she said slowly and clearly, making sure he understood.

He reiterated, explaining what had happened in the afternoon, and she exhaled heavily, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close. She didn't know exactly how it had been accomplished, but she was very grateful.

Cormac looked down at Pansy wrapped in his arms. She gave him so much, he felt honored that he could finally do something for her.

{Summary: Cormac shares some good news with Pansy.}

Chinese anyone? (NC-17)

2008-05-27T13:16:23Z

Pansy poured another splash of the rice wine into the tiny little glass and looked through her lashes at her dining companion. "I don't know why they make these glasses so small, do you?" she asked, alternately giggling and frowning.

Cormac watched Pansy as she refilled their glasses and thought not for the first time this evening how beautiful the witch sitting next to him was. "No idea, doll." He smiled at her, the furrow in her brow as she thought about the size of the glasses completely endeared her to him, and it was with a start that he realized he was feeling a bit tipsy. "I do know that you're the most bloody amazing witch I've ever known," he said truthfully.

She smiled at him and bit her lip playfully. "I bet you say that to all the girls who pour sake for you," she said, trying to stifle another giggle but failing miserably.

"Only the beautiful ones," he teased.

A contemplative expression on her face, she said, "I think this stuff is stronger than Firewhisky, even." Pansy looked up at Cormac, her nose now centimetres from his. "Oooh! D'you think that's why they make the cups tiny?"

"That must be it," he said intently, the way only a drunk person can. "You," Cormac started, "are entirely too smart." He leaned forward and kissed her mostly on the mouth. "I like my woman smart, you know."

"Shhh," she admonished. "I don't like for men to know I'm smart. It scares them away."

He smiled widely and slurred, "I won't tell. It'll be our secret."

"That's what I like about you, darling," she said, snuggling up closer to him. "You can keep a secret." Trailing her fingers along the lined of his bicep, she purred, "You're all Gryffindor-y and brave on the outside, but I like to think you've got a Slytherin center." She leaned her head up and kissed his neck, right above his collar. "Yummy."

"You certainly are," he agreed. "Shall we go? I'd like to have my after-dinner Slytherin now." He smiled as he felt her hand moving up his thigh. "Because Slytherin through and through trumps yummy any day." He looked at Pansy, her eyes closed, and her head resting on his shoulder. "I don't think I can apparate. How're you?"

"No. No squeezing right now. Not good."

"We could walk back to my place. The bed's tiny, but it beats being splinched."

"Mmm. You're going to take me to your home?" she asked, looking at him through heavy eyelids, sighing. "Like your flat. Dark. Charming. Classic. Very you."

Cormac settled the check and helped Pansy on with her cloak. "Off we go." He took her arm and they made their way out of the restaurant with a somewhat steady gait. The sky was clear and the moon was nearing full and as they crossed the small foot bridge in the park, they were both too drunk to notice the moon's reflection in the water and the way it lit their faces till they almost shined.

"I haven't been to your flat in ages," Pansy mused. "Why is that, do you think?" She looked up at him, barely resisting the urge to stop them right there and kiss the stubble long the line of his jaw.

His bright blue eyes were caught in her gaze. "Hmm?" he asked, distracted. "Not sure. Smallish. No elf?" he offered, not turning his face away from hers.

They entered the main lobby of the building, nodded to the doorman and talked quietly while waiting for a lift.

"Hm," she replied. "Elves travel, you know. Go where I go. And I have an extra, now, anyway."

The lift bell sounded and Pansy looked at the people exiting and blinked. She appeared to be seeing double. Surely I haven't had that much to drink, she thought, pressing her fingers to her eyes briefly. When she opened them, there were still two Indian girls looking back at her.

"Pansy," Parvati began cautiously. "Lovely to see you."

"Cormac. Pansy," Padma said as she offered up a small smile.

"There are two of you," Pansy said, relieved.

Parvati shot a look at Padma. "Yes, there are," she replied, clearly amused.

"For a little over twenty years now," Padma said, smiling in agreement.

"But what are you two doing here?" Cormac asked, befuddled.

Padma, adopting the tone she used while speaking with confused clients, answered slowly, "We live here. In this very building. For going on two years now." She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at Parvati.

"Guess what? So do I!" He could hear himself being overly exuberant and cheerful, but he couldn't stop it. "We're neighbors? Well what do you know?"

Parvati bit her lip to keep from giggling. "Well, now I know we're neighbors?" she asked, laughing outright.

Pansy looked from the two girls to Cormac. "Listen this is all very lovely, I'm sure, but I'd really like to maybe have a nap. Or something."

Cormac's attention was brought rapidly back to Pansy, still warm and lovely at his side. "Yes. I'd like some of that too," he answered while pulling her closer against him. "Goodbye, twin girls," he said over his shoulder as he pulled Pansy with him onto the lift.

Parvati looked at Padma. "Who would've thought, eh?"

"Interesting couple," she agreed.

Once the elevator doors closed, Pansy smiled seductively up at Cormac. Moving toward him slowly, her hands raised to unknot his tie. "You are so much fun," she said, giving the corner of his mouth a kiss.

Cormac caught her clumsily in his grasp and returned the kiss enthusiastically. "I'm going to show you some fun like you've never seen before," he murmured, backing her against the lift wall. His fingers immediately went to the hem of her skirt, the fabric rustling as he pushed it up high on her hips. He grasped her bottom tightly with one hand and with the other, he struggled briefly before he managed to loosen his belt and undo the button and zip of his trousers, freeing his straining erection. His trousers slid noiselessly down his legs, and he exhaled sharply as he lifted Pansy onto him.

"Ooh, yes. This is fun," she breathed.

Pansy braced one hand on the railing of the lift and let the other grasp the hair at the base of his neck, pulling his lips to crash with hers, White noise filled her ears, all she saw, all she felt, all she knew was him, over and over and over again. Her head rocked back with a wave of pleasure, and as it ebbed, she brushed her hair from her face, opening her eyes, and they immediately focused on him.

His eyes.

Watching her.

It was his favorite thing to do, after all. Well, it was up there at the top of the list. Her chocolate brown eyes held his in a penetrating gaze, and he felt as if she could see inside his very soul and surprisingly, it wasn't uncomfortable. Increasing his pace, he lifted her higher and tighter against him, his legs straining against the exertion, but his body was filled with glorious sensation and all he could feel was mind-numbing elation, all because of the witch he was watching. He smiled lazily as he noticed that Pansy's cries were increasing in volume, and he nipped at her neck as she threw her head back in a throaty moan.

Even if she wanted to, she wouldn't have been able to stop the shouts filling the enclosed space. Her body jerked violently against his and the air left her lungs in a rush. Gasping, her world exploded into a million tiny shards in an instant, making her fingers and toes tingle, and her skin flush with warmth. His mouth found hers once more and this time the kisses were sweeter, more tender, a familiar end to their love making.

He released her and she slid down the wall, easing her skirt back over her hips. He had just finished buckling his belt as the lift doors opened, and they ran headlong into an old witch walking her intensely yippy terrier, Poopsy.

"Oh! My dear child," the witch said in a cooing voice to Cormac, "you haven't stopped by for so long! And I made my special meatballs last week, too!"

Pansy pressed her lips together and placed a hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh. Poopsy yapped at Cormac's feet enthusiastically.

Cormac placed a kiss on the older woman's extended hand. "I promise I'll stop by sometime soon, Mrs. Hildebrand," he managed, forcing a polite smile to his face.

She smiled and shuffled past he and Pansy and onto the lift. "Such a good boy you are, Cormac. I can't wait to see your uncle again and tell him so."

Pansy laughed outright, tears seeping from her eyes. In a hushed whisper Pansy breathed in his ear, "If she'd got to us thirty seconds before, she would have seen how good you really are."

The doors of the lift closed and Cormac turned to Pansy with a grin on his face. "Can you imagine? That might have given her nightmares," he said.

Pansy scoffed. "More like naughty dreams. She wishes she could get shagged on a lift by such a 'dear child'," Pansy said though laughter.

"Pansy," Cormac admonished, with a smile.

"No, you'd probably give her a heart attack," Pansy said through a renewed fit of giggles.

"Come off it! Now I'm going to need a lobe removed. Thanks, doll." He wrapped an arm around her waist and led her to his apartment. He opened the door, tossed Pansy over his shoulder gently and crossed the threshold. "Prepare yourself for round two," he said as he kicked the door shut. He laughed in response to her delighted squeal as he carried her down the hallway to his bedroom where he placed her softly on his bed. He collapsed beside her and said, "As soon as things stop spinning, that is."

Pansy closed her eyes and willed the walls to stop moving. Putting her hand on Cormac's middle, she wondered, "I know. What do they put in that stuff?"

Her eyes still closed, she began unbuttoning his shirt one-handed, threading the buttons through the holes, hand trailing along the exposed flesh underneath. She cracked open one eye and was relieved that there was only one of him, and that the walls had stopped their moving about. Pansy smiled. "Didn't know I was this talented, did you, darling?"

"You continue to amaze me." His eyes widened as she slowly crawled down his body and began to work on his belt with her teeth. "Not that I'm complaining," he added.

*****

Pansy stirred beneath the blanket that covered her, unsure of exactly where she was. Cracking an eye open, she saw the dark colored walls of Cormac's bedroom, and sighed. Alright, that's good. At least I'm safe.

She frowned mightily; someone should have closed the curtains, because the sunlight streaming through them was preventing her from opening her eyes properly. She smelled coffee coming from the general direction of the doorway, and thought that might be worth getting up for. Stretching languidly, she sat up, smiling at the fact that she had nothing at all on. She slid out of the bed and, wrinkling her nose at last night's outfit, picked up Cormac's dress shirt that had been tossed on the floor, rolling up the French cuffs and doing up a few of the buttons.

She rubbed her eyes sleepily and yawned, walking slowly, the polished hardwood floors cold on her bare feet. Pansy was trying to find her way to the coffee smell when strong arms came from behind her and encircled her waist.

"Morning," he said affectionately. "I was hoping you'd wake up before I had to leave for work." He nuzzled her neck, his pulse quickening as he breathed in the combined scents from his shirt and the woman wearing it. "You are far too appealing for words. Are you trying to make me late?"

She smiled, turning in his arms and laying her head against his chest. "Making you late might be fun," she said sleepily. Tipping her face up, she kissed his neck and wrapped her arms around him. "But you need to go keep the world safe, right?"

"Mmm, that probably should be my priority this morning."

Pansy let him move her into the kitchen and she sat down at his table, pulling her knees up to her chin. Smiling as he handed her a cup of steaming black liquid, she murmured, "Oh, you're a very nice man."

"You're surprisingly easy to please."

She sipped her coffee and decided to ignore that remark. "Oh, darling? There's a party later this month that I need an escort for. Quidditch players' something. A society event. Music, food, dancing. Might be fun. Would you like to go?"

"Let's see," he said, looking thoughtful. "As your escort, I'd demand some kind of payment," he said, taking her coffee cup from her hands after she had had a drink. "And I'm sorry, but I'd demand payment up front--and in full."

Pansy laughed. Nice to know I haven't lost my appeal, even without glamour charms, she thought, letting him pull her close. "You drive a hard bargain, but I think your payment can be negotiated. The Ministry might have to wait another hour for your arrival, however," she said, looking up at him and placing soft kisses along the line of his newly shaven jaw.

"Late it is, then," he said as he led Pansy back to his bedroom. "You are the best currency ever, doll."

{Summary: Pansy and Cormac get drunk. Pansy hires his services and she pays unconventionally.}

When in doubt...

2008-05-27T13:13:15Z

Pansy sighed heavily and sank down into the lavender scented bubbles filling her oversized bathtub. She pointed her wand at the wireless, and soft music filled the room; the sound along with the warm water soothed her, and she felt the muscles in her neck and shoulders uncoil. The steam in the room caused the tendrils of hair that had escaped her sloppy bun to make damp curls at the nape of her neck. Leaning her head back on the edge of the tub, she reached up with her toes and turned off the water, and closed her eyes. This was good. This was needed. And the only thing that would make it better would be... something she didn't want to think about.

But think on it she did. She'd barely seen Cormac since her impromptu declaration. He'd sent her flowers, though, and enclosed a thoughtful note. He hadn't run screaming from her house; in fact, apart from his working more than usual, nothing at all had changed, much to Pansy's surprise.

The whole thing was a surprise actually. If, before recently, someone had told her that they loved her, she would have laughed in their face. Please. Love. The entire concept was ridiculous. Her mother had told her that she loved her, and yet allowed her father to do unspeakable things. Tracey had told her that she loved her, but Tracey had left while Vincent still held Pansy captive, which proved that her best friend hadn't cared very much about her well being. Gregory and Merry had loved her, and they were dead.

Pansy couldn't stop the pout pushing out her lower lip. She could have really used a friend to talk to as of late. Michael was a bad choice, as he was Cormac's friend, too. Blaise and Draco were forever busy, and she didn't think that she could talk to them about this, anyway. She'd shown Blaise enough vulnerability this past weekend with her nightmares, and Draco... well, there was history, there. She'd never really been able to talk to him. Surface things, surely. But never anything real, though she adored him to pieces, and always had. There was Dean, perhaps, or possibly Fred, but she dismissed those thoughts as soon as she had them. She'd never been able to really talk to anyone. With the exception of Cormac.

Cormac. She could talk to him, sometimes. In the rare moments when both of their defenses were down, when she wasn't being stoic and unfeeling, and he wasn't being overly charming, when they weren't who everyone else thought they were, but were only just themselves, very much a pair of friends who shared common interests, who enjoyed each other's company, and liked being together; in those moments, she felt as if she could share almost anything and he wouldn't bat an eye. Not that she would. Or had. With one tiny exception.

She squeezed her eyes shut more tightly, and willed the water to soothe her body. I hope I haven't ruined it all, she thought, sighing and stretching her arms, bending one to rest behind her head. Because I quite like how things are.

***

Cormac slowly climbed the stairs to Pansy's room, exhausted after what had been another extremely long day. At least he had Pansy to look forward to, that is, if she was awake. The tired look left his face and he smiled as he heard the sounds of water and the Wireless coming from her bath suite. He stepped into the closet and quickly removed his watch and clothing and set his wand down on 'his' table by Pansy's obscenely large bed on the way to the bathroom. He contemplated walking right on in, but settled for offering up a light knock as he turned the doorknob.

"Hey, Doll," he said while giving her one of his half grins. "Got room for one more?" The irony of his question would not be lost on anyone who'd ever been lucky enough to see Pansy's tub as it rivalled the Prefect's bath at Hogwarts, which Cormac had visited with several female prefects during his tenure. He walked over the edge and jumped in and swam over to where Pansy was reclining in the shallow end. "Long day?" he asked, as he greeted her with a gentle kiss to her warm, waiting lips. The bath water smelled faintly of jasmine and as he settled in next to her, a cloud of lavender bubbles floated past his face.

"No, it was fine," she replied, smiling and wrapping her arms around his neck. "Balanced the house ledgers, arranged some flowers, did some other things," she said with a smirk. "You? Did you save the world today? Keep it safe from the likes of criminals and ne'er do wells?"

He pulled Pansy onto his lap with a chuckle. "Of course," he answered. Cormac nuzzled her neck, nipping gently at the spot right below her ear which made her moan without fail. "I've missed you," he whispered. "Maybe it's the time the two of us go away again," he added as he returned his attention to her neck. "Or I could just quit my job and you could support me? I could be your sex elf?" He pondered that for a moment with a silly grin on his face and threw his arm across his forehead in mock exhaustion. "Miss Pansy? I cannots be keeping up with you. I be needing clothes now. I's too oversexed."

Pansy threw her head back and laughed, the sound echoing of the marble tiled walls. "As if you'd ever say that." She grinned and tugged on a lock of hair at the nape of his neck. "A sex elf, eh?" Raising an eyebrow, she pressed her body to his, pressing light kisses to his jaw. "I do like the sound of that. And there would be absolutely no clothes for you."

"Sexual harassment?" he said, his eyes twinkling as he slid his hands down her back which was slippery from the soapy suds. "Please?" he asked. He grabbed her by the hips and guided her closer to him. "Starting now?"

***

Pansy took Cormac's hand as he helped her out of the tub and wrapped her in a fluffy towel. She picked up another off of the stack and squeezed the water from the ends of her hair. Calling over her shoulder as she walked into her dressing room, she asked, "Hungry, Darling?"

He shrugged. "Always."

"It's still early. Feel like going out? Or staying in?"

"Why don't we go grab a bite to eat?" he said, as he toweled off. "Where would you like to go?"

"Mmm," she pondered, stepping into her knickers. "Thai food? I need the little biscuit they have for afters with the fortune," she said with a wry smile. "I hate the not knowing. Must see how it all pans out, you know." She fastened her bra and stepped out of the closet, looking at him. "Does that sound good?"

"Anything you want is fine with me." Not able to tear his eyes off her, he thought what he'd really like to do was stay in for round two, but he continued dressing. He held out his arms so Pansy could fasten his cuff links for him and smiled to himself at the bit of familiarity they shared.

She smirked at him and made short work of his cuffs, then turned and went back into her closet. "You know, darling, I've been thinking," she called from the dressing room, "That I need some sort of occupation. Moreso than just taking care of this mouldering heap," she said, buttoning her skirt and reaching for a warm jumper. She chose a dark green cashmere that fell off her shoulder, and smiled at the effect in the mirror.

"What would you think of me opening a spa here in England? Like the one Blaise and I went to?" she asked, heading back into the bedroom. She moved to her jewelry armoire and found a silver bracelet and put some diamond studs in her ears. "We talked a bit about it while we were there, and I think perhaps I could make it work." She dried her hair quickly with her wand and left it in soft waves around her face, and cast a mild glamour. "Although, I don't know if anyone would come, if prejudice from the war would keep people away should they know it's mine."

She turned toward him and sat, smiling at the expression on his face while she put on her boots. Straightening, she asked, "Well, what do you think?"

"You're bloody gorgeous," he answered promptly. At her pointed look he said, "Oh? About the spa? I think it sounds like a fabulous idea. I wouldn't worry about people not patronizing it. Anything you put your name to would be far above the rest." He studied her outfit, the way the neckline of the sweater showed off some of her nicest assets, frowning slightly when he noticed her locket was missing. "Aren't you going to wear your locket?" he asked petulantly.

The smile slipped from Pansy's face, and she felt gooseflesh raise on her arms and some unnamed emotion pool in her belly. Dread? Shame? Remorse? "Would you like for me to?" she asked uncertainly. "I'm also fond of the solitaire pendant that you gave me as well," she said, moving slowly back to her jewelry.

"I would like you to wear it," he said, noticing the unsure expression on her face. "How else can I constantly be staring down your shirt?"

She shot him a look as she picked up the locket and held it out to him, turning her back to him and sweeping her hair up. "You'd do that anyway," she answered. "I don't think you need an excuse."

"Okay. You're completely right about that. Can you blame me? Some people like Monets or Picassos; I like your breasts. So hex me." Standing behind her, he fastened the locket around her neck and ran his fingers down the length of the chain until he held the locket in his fingers.

She held her breath for a moment and asked softly, "It doesn't bother you, then? That... I-" She rolled her eyes and whispered almost angrily, "That I couldn't keep my mouth shut?" And can't apparently now, either. Stupid girl.

Cormac turned her around and placed his hands on her shoulders, meeting her eyes and holding her captive in his gaze. "Does it bother me?" he asked softly. "No." He searched her eyes before continuing, "I can see it bothers you a great deal, though." He looked away for a moment. "Did you not mean it then?"

He looked hurt. Why would he be hurt? "Of- of course I did. I'm not in the habit of saying things that I don't mean," she said softly, avoiding his gaze. Pansy felt as if everything was out of control; that this whole situation was ridiculous, the unrest that it had caused. He looked wounded, she felt humiliated; it was as if they were drowning in the uncharted waters, with no help in sight.

Finally, her eyes met his, and she just couldn't help the pull that happened between them. She stepped into the circle of his arms and tipped her face up to his, placing her hands on his chest. Their lips were drawn together, and she slid her arms around his neck. At that moment, everything clicked. Everything fit. Suddenly, she really didn't care what she'd said and what he hadn't. It didn't matter. Maybe it will be alright, after all, she thought as she reveled in the feel of his lips on hers, lost in the kiss. She kissed him once more and pulled back slightly, smiling softly at the almost dazed look in his blue eyes. "So," she prompted, winding her arms around his waist and letting her hands rest lightly on the muscles of his back. "Dinner?" One eyebrow raised and she continued, "Or would you rather forego it altogether and stay in?"

"Why don't we have Beren conjure something up for us?" he asked, still hypnotized by her gaze. "Call me selfish, but I don't feel like sharing you with anyone this evening. At her nod he loosened his tie and smiled broadly. "I love the way you spoil me, Doll."

She pulled the tie from his collar. "We'll see who spoils whom," she said, sashaying to the bed and looking back over her shoulder with a wink.

{Summary: Cormac and Pansy finally have a bit of a chat. And a bath. And things might turn out to be alright.}

Deep in my heart I'm concealing things that I'm longing to say. (NC-17)

2008-05-27T13:04:43Z

Pansy left Blaise at her doorstep. He was anxious to get back to Hannah. Even if he wouldn't admit it out loud, she could tell that he'd really missed the blonde little thing while they'd been gone. He'd kissed her cheek cursorily and been gone in a flash. Pansy smirked. Completely ensnared, she thought smugly.

She walked into her silent house and was greeted by no one, not even Beren. Frowning, she made her way to her sitting room, hoping to find Cormac there, or at the very least a note. He'd been supposed to stay and feed Beatrice, who hadn't taken a liking to Beren, for some reason. She opened the door to the sitting room and found it bare. No Beatrice, no Cormac, just a cold hearth with unswept ashes and empty chairs.

Who cares? she thought. He'd probably taken the cat to his flat. After all, who would stay in this drafty monstrosity of a house if they didn't have to? She walked down the corridor to the solarium, half-expecting to find something there, but when she lit the lamps, it was just the stillness of the flowers.

Pansy sighed, irritated. There was no reason to expect that he'd be here. He hadn't promised that he would be. Pansy fingered her locket absently, frowning more deeply. She left her bags by the front door and took off her cloak, rolling her head from side to side to ease the tension in her shoulders. She'd have a bath and spend the evening alone, curled up with a book. That would be fine. And the empty, sinking feeling that she felt in the pit of her stomach could go to hell.

She walked through her bedroom to her dressing room and flipped on the light, taking off her shoes and hanging up her cloak. Yawning, she turned around and started back through the door to walk through her bedroom to the bathroom, but stopped short.

The light from the closet cast a triangle of light across the mussed covers of her bed, lighting Cormac's face with a soft glow. He was sleeping deeply, his bare chest moving up and down in an even, rhythmic cadence. She walked over to the bed and looked down at his face, relaxed in sleep. His hair fell across his forehead messily and his lashes curled against his flushed cheeks; his lips were parted slightly. Curled next to him was her favorite little ball of caramel colored fluff, purring contentedly.

Unbidden, a smile crept onto Pansy's face and she sighed, the worry that she hadn't realized she'd held leaving in a rush. She slipped out of her dress, leaving on her chemise, and crawled up behind him in bed, putting her arm around him and kissing the back of his neck softly. She molded her body to his and pressed her cheek to his warm back, a contented sigh escaping her lips.

He stirred in his sleep and whispered, "Pansy." He rolled around to take her in his arms and inhaled deeply. "Missed you," he said sleepily. "Beatrice, too." Cormac ran his fingers down Pansy's back and slipped his hands under her chemise. More awake now, he smiled as Beatrice hopped off the bed and disappeared out the door. Raising an eyebrow, he asked, "Would you care to see how much?"

"Mmhm," she murmured. "I would."

She leaned her head back in pleasure as he pressed kisses to her neck and the hollow of her throat. Sighing, she dragged her hands up his sides slowly and smiled at the shiver that simple action always brought. "I like that you're ticklish," she murmured softly, her teeth grazing his earlobe. She ran her fingers along the muscles in his back, loving the feeling of him, the pressure of him against the length of her body, the sounds he made when she touched him.

Moving her hands further down, she swatted his bum playfully. "No pants? Were you expecting me?"

"You like?" He chuckled, the sound coming from low in his throat. "I was hoping, yes." He slipped her chemise over her head and immediately lowered his mouth around an already pert nipple and busied himself tracing circles with his tongue. He smiled at Pansy's delighted gasping sounds and moved one of his hands over the smooth expanse of her stomach, and down further still where he teased her for a moment, brushing his fingertips over the tops of her thighs before making her truly breathless.

Pansy found that she couldn't draw a proper breath. His hands were everywhere at once, and the pleasure kept hitting her in waves. She couldn't form coherent thought, anything that came from her lips was certain not to make any sense at all. She arched into his hand and felt the warm tremors engulf her. Lying back against the pillows for a moment, she smiled. "I might've missed you, a bit, too."

His face softened a bit and he relaxed, but she shook her head. "Oh, no. I'm not finished with you, yet." Humming softly, she sat up and kissed him, turning and pushing him back on to the pillows. He was so absolutely beautiful that it was sinful. Pansy's lips curved into a smile as she pressed kisses along his neck and chest; sitting up, she threw her hair over her shoulder and lowered herself gently onto him, her fingers grasping the sheets, a low moan coming from her throat. "I'm glad I'm back."

"Right back where I want you." He placed his hands on her hips, pulling her closer to him as he moved upwards to meet her. "Where I need you." He pulled Pansy down so that she was against his chest and kissed her urgently on the mouth. When she fisted her fingers in his hair and pulled, he groaned; she knew what that did to him. He met her gaze and held it. "Don't leave me for that long again," he whispered.

"Promise," she said in a gasp, sitting up and rolling her hips into him. She rocked slowly at first, watching him, his eyes darkening the longer she teased him; when she couldn't stand the torture any longer, she bit her bottom lip and let her head fall back, quickening her rhythm, delighting in the half-phrases and moans coming from him, now.

Knowing he'd do anything for Pansy to experience the feeling of completion again, he tried to keep himself from promising the moon and the stars or his undying affection. Rolling them around so that Pansy was on her back, Cormac increased his pace, spurred on by her cries.

Pansy felt her forehead crease in concentration; at once she felt that familiar pull that started in her toes and travelled to every corner of her body before ripping though her center. Even if she'd wanted to, she couldn't stop the shout that escaped her. Cormac bent, kissing her roughly and carried on until both he and Pansy were trembling and completely sated.

He fell back on to the pillows, but pulled her close and threaded his fingers through her hair, and whispered nonsensical words into her ear. She closed her eyes, basking in the bliss; she felt cherished at that moment, cared for, and safe. Before she knew what she was saying or could stop the whispered, "I love you," the words had already spilled from her mouth.

There was silence for a split second before her eyes flashed open. Simultaneously, she stared at Cormac and heard a strange sound, feeling something hit her collarbone.

They both looked down. The sound had come from her locket, that until just now she had thought was broken. She picked it up and gazed at it from the light spilling out of her closet. Inside the locket were two pictures, one of her, taken at the winter ball, alternately smiling and smirking at the camera, and one of him, winking and looking charming.

She looked up at him mutely, open mouthed, and more than a little scared of what she'd just admitted. She didn't understand why exactly the locket had opened, and held it towards him, in an unspoken question.

Women say it all the time, Cormac, he told himself. But not Pansy. Still breathing harder than normal, he took the locket from Pansy's hand. "Surprise?" he said, a bit sheepish.

Her brows knitted together and she blinked several times. What have you done, you stupid girl? She took in several shallow breaths and felt a stinging behind her eyes. You will not, you cow. You will not shed one single, solitary tear. Stop it. Stop it, now. She cleared her throat quietly and nodded. "Yes. It is a surprise." Looking down at the locket, she spoke, her voice trembling a bit, betraying her. "It's not broken, then."

"No," he said quietly. "It's not broken." He took her chin in his hand and kissed her softly before looking her in the eyes. "I'm sorry, I probably should have told you about the locket before now. I meant it as a joke, truthfully. I thought we'd have a good laugh over it. But I never got around to telling you, and then when you asked about it," he rubbed his eyes sleepily, "I guess I just wanted to see if it would open on its own--something like this."

"Oh." The word was no more than a breath. Pansy's heart dropped into her stomach and she had to force her face to remain placid. A joke. A trick. A trap. She'd evidently just said something very stupid. Hell, she'd made fun of people incessantly for using those words and now karma, or kismet, or whatever you wanted to call that bitch was coming back 'round to bite her in the arse. She deserved no less. "Of course." Pansy willed herself not to rip the chain from her neck and throw it as far from her as possible. "You wanted a warning should I become too attached."

"What?" he exclaimed. "No! Pansy, it's not like that." He struggled to find the words to match the emotions. "I never thought what we have would turn into something serious. I don't do serious. Well, not before now. I don't know what the hell I'm doing. But I do know that when I heard those words come out of your mouth, I wasn't scared. For the first time."

"I-" She decided that nothing she could possibly say would be the right thing at the moment. What was she supposed to say? I've never said that to anyone else before now? No one has ever told me that, with the exception of a few friends, most of whom are dead? I'm sorry, it slipped out? All inappropriate. She closed the locket and let it fall back on her chest. "I'm exhausted after all that, aren't you, darling?" she asked lightly, not quite meeting his eyes.

"I am." He kissed her on the forehead and gathered her close to him, arranging the blankets around them before settling back to his thoughts, wondering exactly what had just happened.

Whenever a woman had told him she loved him in the past, it was his indicator to move on. He didn't have emotional attachments. He went out of his way to choose women who were easy to leave; he had obviously made a mistake in choosing Pansy. No, not a mistake, he interrupted his own thoughts. He had never intended anything serious to come of them, but he was surprised--and pleased--that he didn't feel the need to bolt immediately. "Night, doll," he said quietly. He closed his eyes, drifting off towards sleep with a smile on his face.

Pansy lay very still for several moments. When she heard Cormac's breathing transition into a steady, even rhythm, she opened her eyes and looked up at his face, still illuminated by the closet. His expression was peaceful, content, perhaps even happy, and she found herself conflicted. Why don't I feel the same? she thought, staring over his shoulder at the moonlight spilling in from the window. She was sure that she'd have plenty of time to ponder that question, as sleep seemed to be eluding her tonight.

She pulled away slightly, pointing her wand at the light.

"Nox."

She sighed and moved back to Cormac, sliding her wand under the pillow, her eyes open and staring ahead into the blackness.

It was going to be a long night.

{Summary: Pansy return from France to find Cormac in her bed; they reconnect and she finds out just how her locket opens.}

It's a terrible mistake...

2008-05-27T13:02:48Z

Over the top of her book, Pansy's eyes followed Cormac as he walked out of her bathroom, pyjama pants slung low on his hips, his hair slightly damp and curling at his neck. She admired the play of muscles in his back as he stretched and threw his clothes in the hamper for Beren to launder. Sitting on the divan and propping his feet up on the end, he picked up his briefcase and busied himself, face set in concentration, as he sorted through some paperwork that he'd brought home with him.

Home, she thought.

Since her return, she couldn't think of a time when he hadn't been here in the evening. It was unspoken. He just came to her house after he was finished at the Ministry. It was comfortable. It was certain.

Is it certain? she thought, a frown marring her forehead.

She turned the page of her book, knowing that she hadn't read it, but if he'd been paying attention at all, he'd know that she wasn't reading. She was thinking. On the whole, Pansy didn't like thinking. It always led to difficult matters. It was always so much easier to accept things the way that they were. To let whatever would come do so, and deal with it then.

But the problem was that she really liked they way things were. She liked the comfort. She liked his presence. She liked it when his defenses were down and he wasn't being unfailingly charming. She liked waking up next to him, and the way that he always touched her in some way- a hand on her hip, a leg thrown over one of hers- when they were sleeping. She liked that he appreciated when she did things for him, and found, to her horror, that she actually liked doing things for him. She liked him much to her dismay. Or delight. Depending on the moment.

He didn't coddle her; he just seemed to accept how she was. He didn't demand her attention like so many men that she'd dated. If she wanted to work in her greenhouses, he might accompany her, or not. If she had owls to catch up on, he didn't pout and whine that she wasn't spending time with him. Best of all, he didn't want to engage in endless and pointless chatter, and she simply adored how they could be in the same room for hours at a time, sometimes, and not have to talk.

But when they did converse, it was always engaging. He was intelligent. And had common sense to boot, which was a rare combination. She found that it was easy to make him laugh, and she found his slightly wicked sense of humour to be delightful, as well. And on days when she'd had opportunitites with other men, like this afternoon with Miles, she hadn't thought twice about it. Didn't even consider it.

Pansy sighed. And turned another page. This thinking will be the death of me.

Cormac grinned as he watched Pansy turn yet another page of her book with her eyes still on the wall. She was obviously lost in thought, but he admired her Slytherin side, and how she never let on to anyone else what she was thinking, or when she was thinking. He wondered if this was a trait that she had been taught since birth, or if was something she had had to learn in order to survive with a father like hers. He shook his head to clear thoughts of her father and the abuse she had obviously suffered from his hands.

He liked to watch Pansy when she wasn't aware of it--her softness and beauty didn't have to compete with her quick temper and sarcasm. He let his gaze linger for a moment longer before breaking the comfortable silence. "Doll?" he asked. "What are you thinking?"

She was snapped out of her reverie by his voice. Arranging her features into one of innocence, she replied, "The Galleon to Muggle money exchange rate? Did you read that in the Prophet? I'm not sure that it wasn't all drivel." That sounds plausible. Can't very well say 'I was just pondering how fabulous you are and how much I like having you 'round.' No, that won't do.

He put down what he'd been working on and crawled up next to her on the bed. "You were lost in thought over the Muggle exchange rate?" he raised an eyebrow. He didn't necessarily believe her, but it had actually been on his mind earlier.

"Yes," she replied in a tone that brooked no argument. She let him wrap himself around her, and smiled, enjoying the way hard planes of his chest felt against her back. She settled back against him and threaded her fingers through his.

He kissed her temple and asked, "Really?"

She frowned and squeezed his hands breifly, and decided to change the subject. "Darling?" she asked, feeling the metal of his ring and bringing his left hand up to her eye level. "Why do you wear this ring? You haven't always; you didn't have it when we first met."

Cormac studied Pansy for a moment. She certainly was a lot more perceptive than she let on at times. He thought for a moment about lying, but decided against it. "You're right. I haven't had this ring for very long. I wasn't sure you had noticed." He slipped it off his finger and began to twirl it between his thumb and index finger, before he placed it in her outstretched palm.

She looked at him curiously and then inspected the ring. "Nice weight," she said, looking at the inside.

"Thanks." He smiled, not unlike a school-aged child showing his mum a drawing. "I transfigured it myself, but that's later in the story. You know how I feel about Muggleborns at the Ministry, right? I mean, it's been my experience, in my department at least, that you get a few of them together and next thing you know, they're pushing for Muggle rights ad nauseum. It turns my stomach." He looked at Pansy and saw that she was watching him with an interested expression. "I haven't always made it easy for those types of people to keep their jobs, if you know what I mean." He paused.

"Really?" she replied blandly.

"Apparently my activities didn't go unnoticed. I was approached not too long after I met you by a group called the Liberi of Sanctimonia." He grinned at Pansy's raised eyebrow. "I know. Children of Purity seems a bit pretentious, doesn't it?" He thought for a moment before adding, "They're the peacock people." Cormac accepted the ring back from Pansy and slipped it onto his finger. He reached out for her hand, and taking it in his, moved his thumb softly over her skin. "And they believe strongly in the purity of blood."

Pansy frowned and murmured, "The peacock people." The fireworks show on Halloween. The thing that ate the Dark mark.

She watched his hand entertwined with hers, and then looked up to meet his gaze. "Purity of blood," she repeated. Surely not. Surely this is not happening again. Not again. Not him. "Do you remember who else valued purity of blood, Cormac?" she asked softly.

Cormac held Pansy's gaze unwavering. "Doll, Voldemort's gone. This isn't about some half-dead lunatic trying to decimate the Muggle population," he answered, his voice calm and low. He raised his hands to either side of her face and placed a tender kiss on her lips. "It's not like before, I promise." He could see the fear and worry in her eyes and it penetrated deep, causing unnamed emotions in him. When he had joined the Liberi, he hadn't been in the place where he was now with Pansy. He had made arrangements for her's and Katie's safety, but he hadn't concerned himself with what Pansy would have thought of the organization.

It took all of Pansy's effort to keep the tremor from her voice. "Are you sure, Cormac? Are you really sure?" Everything had been fine. Fine. And now, she just didn't know. "What have you done for them?" she asked, remembering flashes of herself as a child, clinging to her mother's skirts as her father put on his cloak and mask, when he'd leave to 'take care of business.' "Do I want to know?"

He pulled her close to him again so that her head was resting on his chest and his arm was draped around her. "That's just the thing, Pansy. I haven't done anything I wouldn't have done already, on my own." He took a deep breath in, content to be able to hold Pansy, even though he was aware she wasn't receptive at the moment. "I've relieved a few Muggleborns from their positions in the Ministry. It's a win-win, actually."

She brought her hand up and placed it lightly on his chest. "You did?" she asked softly. "And you did this because they were poor at their jobs, or just had the wrong parentage?"

"Would you think less of me if I said a little bit of both?" he asked.

Pansy's mind was spinning, putting together pieces of a puzzle that she was far from being able to complete. "You wouldn't--" No, he wouldn't. He couldn't. "You wouldn't... kill anyone, would you?"

Cormac pulled away from Pansy, and rolled onto his side, looking into her eyes. "God no, Pansy," he spat out, clearly upset. "Do you think me capable of that?"

She shook her head, still trying to come to grips with what he'd said. "No," she said quietly. "No I don't. But the last time- when-" She closed her eyes and willed herself to remain calm. "I don't think you understand how dreadful it was. It didn't start out big, you see. It was only occasionally at first." That Father went out. And had me go with him. "And then escalated later."

"You're right," he said, pulling her back into his arms. "I don't know how bad it was before."

She looked at him with an inscrutable expression for several moments. "It was not something I ever want to live through again," she said solemnly.

"I won't ever let anything like that happen to you, Pansy," he said softly. "I made certain of that before I joined."

"Can I ask to whom you report? Who is in charge of the organization?"

He traced circles on her arm with his fingertip, before pulling her closer to him. "I'm embarrassed to admit this next part. I'm not usually this careless, honest; I'm not really certain who's 'in charge'. I only know how to contact people within the organization. That's where my ring comes in."

"Do you know what else have the Children of Purity have done?"

"Not especially, no. I only know what I've been asked to do." He looked at Pansy, not knowing quite what her reaction would be.

"I know you're an intelligent man," she said, looking into his eyes. "Do you see how potentially dangerous this is? This organization cloaked in secrecy, whose members don't know what exactly it's about? Think about the last time. We actually knew who was in charge, and yet it still went to hell."

Cormac had been experiencing a nagging feeling at the back of his mind whenever he thought of the Liberi, and he realized, the more Pansy spoke, that it had been for a good reason. "I see that now. I'll be careful, alright?" He tucked her head into the hollow beneath his chin and held her tight. "I don't know what else to say, how else to reassure you. I'm not in any danger and I won't be killing anyone."

She closed her eyes, wanting very much to believe him. Taking a deep breath, she asked, "How do you know you aren't in danger? How can you be so sure?" Her voice broke, and she waited a few moments before continuing in a quieter, more even tone, "I can't- I don't want-"

Unable to contine, she thought for a minute. Trust is such a hard thing to give,Pansy thought sullenly. She hadn't been very handsomely rewarded in her life by where and in whom she'd placed her trust. In fact, just about every person she'd ever believed in had let her down, in one way or another.

She made a decision, for better or worse, and pulled back from his embrace to look up at him, speaking slowly, with measured words and a calm demeanor.

"I can't lose you." He started to reply, but she put a finger to his lips. "No, I don't think you understand. I can't. Not like that. It's not that I don't want to lose you, or that I'd be very sad if you left. People have died doing this sort of thing. People that I've loved. And I couldn't bear it if you did, too."

People that I've loved. Cormac, still caught in Pansy's gaze, thought on the words she had just said, and wondered if he was part of that group. People that she's loved? "What have I told you before? he asked, his voice almost a whisper. "I am not going anywhere. Not unless you want me to." He sighed, knowing that she had just shared part of herself that she didn't normally, and that he should probably reciprocate. "This is new territory for me. I've never been with someone as long as I've been with you. I don't know what I'm doing, but I do know I want to keep doing it."

Oh. She smiled softly and took his hand in hers. "Alright." She laced her cheek against his chest once again, and asked, "Cormac?"

"Doll?"

"I know I might not have the right, but can I ask you to do something for me?"

"You can ask, sure."

"Consider termintaing your involvement in this group?" Shaking her head slightly, she continued, "I don't like it. I don't like the feeling I get from it."

Cormac was quiet for a moment, and remained motionless. This was the reason he didn't get involved in relationships. People feeling like they could expect things of you. But Pansy's not trying to control you, he thought. She's concerned for your safety, you dolt. And you trust her judgment. He bit back a groan and answered, "Yes, for you I will consider it."

She looked up at him and nodded. "Alright."

This was strange. Very strange. She didn't know what to say. She felt as is she'd said far too much already, tonight, and desperately needed to be on even footing again. Studying his face silently, her eyes moved to his lips. Slowly, tenatively she leaned in to him, brushing her lips with his, teasing him until he responded. She pulled him to her and threaded her fingers in his hair, tugging gently, and placed insistent kisses to his lips, trying to express what she couldn't put into words.

He pulled her to lie on top of him and she sighed contentedly. This was better than words.

He moved his hands slowly down her back and gathered her nightgown in his fingers and pulled it up over her head, inhaling sharply when he found her completely bare underneath. "You, doll, are fabulously-" he kissed her full on the mouth, "and incredibly sexy." He cupped her bottom in his hands and pulled her tightly against him. "Just so you know," he added. He rolled the two of them so that he was lying on top of her, and he smiled down lasciviously upon her. "And now, assuming you are up to it," he began, "I am going to reacquaint myself--my eyes, my hands, my mouth--with every single centimeter of your lovely body. And some of them more than once."

Pansy nodded. "I'd be very cross if you didn't." Smirking, she leaned up and kissed him, whispering, "But then I get a turn."

{Summary: Pansy and Cormac have an enlightening chat about life, love and the Liberi.}

A bit like the Spanish Inquisition...

2008-05-27T13:00:16Z

Cormac sat on the sofa in Pansy's sitting room, waiting for her to finish up her daily correspondence. He loosened his tie and leaned back, settling into the deep cushions as he closed his eyes. It had been a Monday at work in every sense of the word, and if he heard the words Harry Potter and wonderful in the same sentence once more time, he was going to have to quit the Ministry and go sell camels in Saudi Arabia.

"Cormac, darling?"

"Mmm?" he answered.

"You remember your little friend that I met at the Winter Ball? Something Brocklehurst? Starts with an M, I think?"

"Mandy?" Cormac's eyes shot open and he furrowed his brow.

"Probably. She stopped by today," she said calmly, signing her last owl with a flourish. "Interviewed me for the Daily Prophet. And she said that you said that I would be home to receive her." She looked up at Cormac levelly, calmly, and one of her eyebrows rose expectantly. "It's getting a little wearisome, being subjected to your lady friends left and right. If I weren't so delightfully sweet," she said though slightly clenched teeth, "Miss Brocklehurst might not be as intact as she once was."

"What?" he asked. "She owled me the other day, asking me to set up an exclusive with you. I told her that she would need to owl you at home." He smiled as much as he dared. Being subjected to my lady friends? It's not as if I have control over them.

She rose and moved to stand behind behind the sofa, resting her elbows on the back and draping her hands over his shoulders. "I thought it must be something like that." She started kneading his shoulders with her hands distractedly, working the knots with her thumbs. "You do realize that that's two in as many weeks? How many more will come out of the woodwork, hm?"

Cormac was relieved Pansy was standing behind him so that she couldn't see the amused look on his face. He knew that wouldn't go over well. "I'm sure there will be no more friends of mine stopping by, doll." He looked up and saw her looking down at him with a mildly irritated look on her face. "Maybe you should put up a large fence?" he joked.

She stopped her work on his shoulders and let out a short chuckle. Moving around to couch, she kept eye contact with him until she was standing in front of him. "I'm not upset. With you." Yet. "But the reporter girl should keep her distance. Although I'm sure I already gave her that impression." She knelt on the sofa beside him and smiled. "I might put up a fence. That's not a bad idea." She cocked her head. "But I don't want to keep you here if you don't want to stay." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, trailing soft kisses down his neck, until she came to his collar, when she stopped and began to un-knot his tie.

"You're not getting rid of me that easy," he said, leaning into her touch.

Pansy smiled wickedly. "In that case, I have something upstairs that I'd like to show you before dinner," she said, pulling him up by the ends of his tie and dragging him towards the door. "And it isn't going to be easy, darling. Not easy at all."

"You're going to make me work for my dinner?" he asked, his voice deeper than usual. "I like the way you think, you slave driver, you."

"Slave driver?" she asked thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose I could dig up my whip..."

He smiled widely as she pulled him up the stairs.

{Summary: Pansy requests that Cormac's little friends keep their distance. He is handsomely rewarded for respecting her wishes.}

Advice is seldom welcome...

2008-05-27T12:26:18Z

"Mistress. Mistress, you've a visitor."

Pansy awoke with a start, Cormac's arm lying comfortably across her middle, and looked up to find Beren standing at her bedside.

"Mistress is awake."

"Was that not the goal of you hissing in my ear?" Pansy growled sleepily in a whisper so as not to wake Cormac.

"Mistress has a visitor," Beren repeated.

"So you've mentioned, elf. Who is it? Or shall we play a game of 'Slam Beren's Fingers in a Drawer' until you tell me?"

"Mr. Corner is waiting downstairs."

"Michael. Well, it's not me, then." Pansy turned and put her hand on Cormac's shoulder.

Beren spoke quickly. "No, Mistress. Mr. Corner asked for you specifically."

"What's that?" Cormac asked, his voice thick with sleep.

"Nothing, darling," Pansy replied. "I'm going downstairs for a bit. Michael's here."

"Want me to come too?" he asked sleepily, half-heartedly rising up on an elbow.

"No, I'll see what he wants and send him on."

Cormac laid his head back down heavily on the feather pillow. "'kay. Come back to bed soon," he pouted.

Pansy leaned over to kiss him before she unwillingly left the warmth of their bed. Pulling on a dressing gown, she padded down the stais, running her fingers through her hair and stifling a yawn.

When she entered the sitting room, she saw Michael immediately, sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands. Approaching him, she gave him a hasty once-over. "No blood. You don't appear to be injured. I would hope for a bleeding head wound if I'm to be awakened and dragged from my bed at three a.m."

"What?" Michael asked. "No, I'm alright," he said distractedly.

Pansy studied him. His expression, his posture, his entire demeanor, seemed- desolate. That concerned her a bit. She sat next to him and put her hand gently on his knee. "What is it, Michael?"

Michael exhaled sharply. "You know how you got to have my sister when we were at Hogwarts? How she looked out for you, and gave you advice?"

This is about Merry? Odd. "Yes," she replied warily.

"I didn't have her, then. I needed her then, and you got to have her. I need her now, but I can't go to her because she's dead. I can't go to her for help. The closest thing I have to a sister is you."

Pansy raised an eyebrow. "You're clearly distressed, so I'm going to pretend that you didn't just call me a 'thing'." She sighed. "Do you need help, darling?" she asked in a softer tone.

"Desperately," Michael whispered.

Pansy's eyebrows raised. "What do you need? Money? Somewhere to hide? Somewhere to hide a body? What, darling? Tell me. The suspense is killing me."

Michael smiled wanly. "Advice. I think I might've messed up, Pansy."

Frowning, she asked, "How so?"

After an explanation, wherein Michael gave a lot of information in a very short period of time, Pansy rose, poured him a brandy, turned to take it to him, thought better of it, then picked up the entire tray, decanter and all, and set it before him. Handing him a glass, she asked, "So you are apparently in a committed relationship," she said in a derisive tone, "with Susan, had a few too many and kissed Padma Patil." She poured herself a tumbler and sank back against the couch. "You know you do that rather a lot, get drunk and kiss people you oughtn't."

"Pansy. Not helping."

Pansy scoffed. "You wanted sisterly advice, darling. This is it. If you think Merry would've been different, you're wrong." She put down her glass. "So really, darling. What's the problem?"

"I kissed Padma! That's the bloody problem, " he said angrily.

She watched him, non-plussed. "Is the problem that you kissed her, or that you want to do it again?"

"What?" he asked. "No! Susan- I-she- This is going to be awful for her to hear."

"Why would you tell her, Michael? It will only hurt the mousy little thing. I think it's terribly selfish of you to tell her that just to assuage your own guilt." She looked at him. "Unless you want to end it with her."

Michael shook his head. "I don't." Do I? "I don't."

Pansy looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Darling, trust me. Women don't appreciate being stepped out on. Cormac may have very well done so, but he's had the decency not to tell me about it, and he's been discreet, because if I ever did hear that... there wouldn't be enough pain in the world for me to inflict upon him, no matter how much I-" She shook her head. "But I digress."

Michael looked confused.

She waved a hand airily. "That's neither her nor there. You. And Susan. Or, you and Padma." She looked at him expectantly.

"I was drunk, Pansy."

She scoffed again. "Uh huh. Some of the best decisions I've ever made have happened while drunk. Your point?"

He looked at his shoes. "Padma got upset. She doesn't want to see me outside of work."

Pansy frowned. "Why not? Are you a bad kisser? Cormac never said."

Michael closed his eyes. "Pansy," he implored.

Rolling her eyes, she sighed. "Yes, yes, alright. So the Patil girl - the Ravenclaw one or the Gryffindor one?"

The pretty one. "Ravenclaw."

"Ah," she continued. "The Patil girl says she doesn't want to see you. How did you end it with her, then? After you kissed her, presumably well, I hope."

"I apologized. Because I shouldn't've. Because of Susan."

Pansy pursed her lips. Susan. "Let me see if I understand this, darling boy. You kissed her, and then apologized, and then brought up your girlfriend." She chuckled. "It's amazing that I never fell for you, Michael Corner. You're quite the Casanova."

Michael glared at her. "If you're not going to help-"

She held up her hands. "Alright, I'll stop." She reached for his hand again and held it. "What do you think you should do?"

He sighed. "I have to be honest with Susan. I have to. I can't continue on, it would be like lying to her."

"Like lying. But not actually lying."

"Same difference."

"I assure you, Michael, it is not. Slytherins get taught this in first year."

"I have to make things right."

Pansy sighed. "Alright. And after you 'make things right'?"

Michael shrugged. "I don't know."

Pansy patted him. "Well, go do whatever it is that you feel you must, and give it a good think. You'll know what you want eventually. And if one of those girls need some persuading, you know where you can find me, yeah?"

Michael nodded. "Yeah."

"But not in the middle of the night, darling because... ugh," she said with a disgusted expression. "At a decent hour, next time, please." She gave him a small smile. "You can stay here for the night, if you like. Beren can show you to a room?"

He nodded. "Okay."

She snapped her fingers, gave Beren the particulars, bid Michael goodnight, then watched as the elf led him off. She finished her brandy, and then his. Pansy sighed heavily. She didn't know all the particulars or even how Michael felt about these girls, but she did know one thing. She would be very cross with someone who hurt Michael Corner. Very cross indeed.

Gifts...

2008-05-27T12:23:24Z

Cormac apparated into Pansy's bedroom and was surprised to find her sitting up on the chaise by her bed reading. Usually when he worked this late, he'd find her in bed already. "Hey, doll," he said, setting down his things and joining her on the chaise. He moved closer and kissed her softly on the lips. "How was your day?"

She shrugged and sighed. "Alright, I suppose. Had its ups and downs. I had dinner with Dean Thomas."

"Ah." Subject change. "I brought you a present." He stood up and retrieved the package for Pansy from Heliotropes. "I owed you a few new pieces," he said, handing her the package with a broad grin.

She laughed and took the box from him, opening it and smiling with delight. She stood and held one of the chemises to her, gazing at Cormac with a raised eyebrow. "Would you like to see these modeled?"

"I was hoping that's how things would play out, yes." He pulled out the purple one and handed it to her. "I really like this one. If you don't mind."

She smirked and took it from his hand, turning to go into her dressing room. Calling over her shoulder, she said, "Oh, Cormac, darling?"

"Yes, gorgeous?"

"I had tea with a friend of yours today. At least she said she was a friend."

Cormac hesitated before answering, "You did? Who is this mystery woman?"

"Romilda Vane?" Pansy exited the dressing room clad in the dark purple negligee, and stopped to stand before him, revolving slowly. "Well, what do you think?"

It was an unpleasant sensation, at best. Thinking of Romy while staring at Pansy's near perfection. The length of the negligee was just right--showing off Pansy's endless legs while still leaving a bit under wraps. "I think you are breathtaking." He reached out for her, and grabbing her by the hips, he pulled her to him so that he was face level with her abdomen and rested his cheek against it. "Do we have to talk about Romy right now?"

I deplore nicknames, she thought with distaste. "We do not, in fact, have to talk about her," she said, running her fingers though his hair and tugging gently, as she held him agaisnt her. "Can I ask you a question, though?"

"Of course."

"Are you happy, darling?"

He looked up at Pansy, smiling, and said softly, "For the first time in a long time, yes."

Pansy smirked and replied, "Good." Miss Vane can take a flying leap, then, as far as I'm concerned, she thought, and took Cormac's hand, pulling him off the chaise and leading him toward the bed. "Want to be even happier?"

He laid Pansy down on the bed before him. "Do I ever."

{Summary: Cormac and Pansy chat about their day. Cormac comes bearing gifts, Pansy mentions Romilda Vane. Doesn't seem quite an even exchange. }

Who? You. When? Now.

2008-05-27T12:21:13Z

Who? You. When? Now.
Enough was bloody well enough.

There was only so much that a proper, pure-blooded witch could take. It had been just under a month. One month, give or take. Twenty-six days, twelve hours and forty-five minutes, if you wanted to be precise. Pansy was cross, bordering on cranky, and that was never a good thing.

She was completely flummoxed, which didn't happen very often, she was proud to say. But it was new territory for her. Never, ever had she worn negligees and next to nothing, been powdered and perfumed, looking, well, edible others had said, and a man not taken advantage of the situation.

Cormac hadn't pushed her away per se; he'd been attentive, and sweet, and unfailingly kind. He'd nursed her through the worst of her injuries and seen her at her absolute worst. He'd never said an unkind word about her appearance. But when it came to sex, he just didn't. He hadn't initiated anything, lately. Not that she needed him to. She'd tried kissing him, touching him in ways that had always thought pleased him in the past, but he'd never followed through, and it left her frustrated and confused.

Pansy figured that it had to be one of four things: He was disgusted with how she'd looked when she escaped and couldn't find her attractive anymore, he was sleeping with someone else, he expected her to turn into a werewolf at the first full moon, or worst of all, he was staying about because he pitied her.

She wasn't having any more of it. She'd had an absolutely horrific week, and she needed him. Actually, if she were to be honest with herself, she needed sex; she wanted him. So, Pansy Parkinson, determined Slytherin queen, had a plan.

A few hours before he was to show up at her house, she drew a bubble bath and had a nice, relaxing soak. She washed her hair with a shampoo that she knew he was fond of, took extra care in curling and arranging her long tresses into soft waves, cast a glamour that covered the dark circles that had almost disappeared from under her eyes, and lotioned and powdered herself into a thing of beauty. She picked out a long, dark green, silk nightgown with a slit up the thigh that she knew he liked, as he was the one that had given it to her, and slid it over her form, gazing at herself in the full length mirror, ignoring the mirror's sassy tone, He'll never buy the dragon if he gets the fire for free!

"If he doesn't do something about this, I'm going to question the man's sanity," she said, blowing a kiss and winking at her reflection.

Cormac apparated into Pansy's sitting room and threw his bag and cloak on the sofa. Even though Pansy had told him it was perfectly fine for him to apparate directly into her bedroom, he didn't feel comfortable doing that unless he was with her. He took the stairs two at a time on the way up to Pansy's room, excited to be finished with his long day at the office. He knocked softly on her bedroom door so as not to startle her, and pushed the door open at her quiet, 'Come in.'

He groaned audibly when he saw the vision of loveliness that was waiting for him. He had deliberately kept his distance from Pansy over the past few weeks. It had required massive amounts of self-control--something he didn't even know he had been capable of before now--and daily cold showers and much self-love. But he'd be damned if he pushed Pansy into something she wasn't ready for. They still hadn't talked about the details of her abduction and he was loathe to push himself on her if it was going to make things difficult for her to heal, emotionally and physically.

Pansy was lounging against the pillows on her bed, reading a book when Cormac came in. She put a marker in the book, and laid it gently on the bedside table. "Good evening," she said softly, raising an eyebrow. "And how was your day, darling?"

Cormac climbed onto the bed and stretched out beside Pansy, running a finger up the smooth, soft skin of her arm. "My day was dismal," he said wearily. "My night, though?" He smiled broadly and licked his lips. "I'd have to say that my night just got a lot better." He gazed at Pansy, taking in the soft curls of her hair, the glow of her skin, the way her long creamy thigh disappeared beneath her nightgown....It was almost too much to take in at once.

He nuzzled her neck, inhaling his favorite scent--which he still wasn't certain if it was Pansy's perfume or just Pansy--and felt his tenuous hold on his control snap like the branch of a tree under a load of ice. He pulled her on top of him so that she was straddling his waist and ran his hands up her sides and down her arms. He exhaled sharply before saying, "Pansy? I'm sorry, doll. I've waited so long. I don't want to pressure you, but I can't resist if you're going to wear my favorite nightgown and smell so good."

"You've waited?" she exclaimed, looking at him with a stunned expression. "I've waited! I've tried, Cormac, and you kept pushing me away." She shook her head and began kissing him fervently. "You are a silly, silly man, darling." She loosened his tie, and slid it from the collar of his shirt, tossing it behind her smiled at him.

Cormac was dumbfounded. "You've wanted to?" he asked, his voice rising towards the end. "I thought you wouldn't want to. So soon, I mean." I am an idiot. He ran his fingers down the side of her face in a soft caress. "Are you sure?"

"So soon? Am I sure?" she asked incredulously, laughing and yanking his shirt open, causing a button to fly across the room. "It's been weeks, Cormac. I'm healed and I'm fine. If you could stop being noble for, oh," she paused thoughtfully, "say... two, two and a half hours? I'd be terribly grateful." She ran her hands appreciatively along the lines of his chest and abdomen, making a noise in the back of her throat somewhere between a hum and a growl, then moved downward so that her lips could follow the paths her hands had started. After she kissed every available inch of skin, she sat up, pulling him to a seated position in front of her. "And he didn't bite me, if that's what you're worried about," she murmured, unbuckling his belt and sending it to rest on the floor with his tie.

The feel of Pansy's hands and mouth on his skin caused his muscles to bunch and jump and his pulse rate to quicken. And then the words she spoke sunk in. "What?" he asked. "I know that. I asked Weasley." He reached forward and lifted the nightgown over her head. "Two hours? I've got the rest of the night and into the morning, doll."

Between heated kisses, she asked, "You knew? That I wasn't going to turn? I don't understand, darling," she murmured as she unbuttoned, unzipped and removed his trousers in an artistic manoeuvre. "If it wasn't that, then, what?" She ran her hands up his legs, letting her fingertips run underneath his pants, smiling wickedly at his sharp intake of breath.

He was silent and looking at her through heavy-lidded, lust filled eyes, and Pansy dicided that the present time wasn't really good for either of them to have a conversation. "You know what, darling?" she asked leaning down and kissing him, "I don't care."

He smiled his agreement. "Are you sure you feel fine physically?"

"Better than."

While the words were still on her lips, he flipped her over onto her back and began to run his hands over her body, starting at her shoulders and moving down to his more favorite parts. "Yes, you are, aren't you?"

*****************************

It was a long while later, as Pansy and Cormac were reclined on the bed pillows, happily exhausted, that Cormac said to Pansy, "You thought I didn't want you?" He looked at her intently. "How could you think that?"

She shrugged and tried for an airy and unconcerned tone of voice. "You've been different since I've been back," she explained quietly. "Not like you were... before. I thought perhaps that it was a little too much reality for you. That you saw me in a different light because of him."

Cormac inhaled and released his breath unevenly. "Pansy, I thought you were dead." He reached for her hand and held it between his. "Don't get me wrong--I hoped you weren't. It was the only thing that kept me from doing something rash, the hope that you were still alive. But that fear, the thought that I might never see you again? It brought a few things to light. It pushed away some other things that didn't matter. And most importantly, it made me realize that I have strong feelings for you; feelings that I've never had for anyone else." There. I said it. No going back, Cormac, old boy. He moved his gaze from where he had been staring at their joined hands to look her in the eyes. "And if I acted differently, it was because I was afraid of what you might have gone through at his hands.

Pansy frowned at that, but he continued on. "I didn't want to pressure you. In your absence, I realized that while of course I missed shagging you, it was you I missed more."

She touched his lips with her fingertips, and whispered, "Do you want to hear something ironic?"

"I do."

"The day-the night- he took me, I'd had similar thoughts to yours. And I didn't know how to go about saying it all out loud, because, well, I don't have a heart, and all that."

He squeezed Pansy's hand. "I think you'll find you have one, doll." He smiled wryly. "If I have a heart, you certainly do."

"And you needn't worry that he damaged me beyond what you saw the night I got out," she said, reassuring him. "He didn't- we didn't-" She paused and saw relief in his expression. "I had to let him kiss me, she continued in a disgusted tone, "But that's all. And then when he couldn't get what he wanted, he tried to stop me from leaving, and you saw the repercussions of that. That's all that happened."

Pansy leaned forward and pressed her lips against Cormac's, loving the way he immediately pulled her her body flush with his. "And we don't ever have to discuss it again, as far as I'm concerned," she murmured between kisses.

"Fine with me." He nuzzled her neck, seeking out the spot that always elicited moans. "End of conversation?"

"Yes," she replied. "By all means, stop talking and save your strength." She let out a breathy sigh and leaned into his touch. "You have a month to make up for, if I'm not mistaken."

{Summary: After a dangerously close brush with crankiness, Pansy decides to take what she wants from Cormac, who doesn't seem to mind at all.}

Nothing says, 'I care,'

2008-05-27T12:18:30Z

Hildi dropped a large stack of files onto Cormac's desk with a sour look on her face. "This is the last of them, Mr. McLaggen." She smoothed out her shirt from where the weight of the files had rested. "I still don't think it's fair--this increased workload you've had to take on, what with the new Head and all," she said.

"Nor do I, Hildi, but it's for the greater good, I suppose." And as soon as Potter falls flat on his ass, I'll be here to pick up the pieces.

"Mr. McLaggen?"

"Yes, Hildi?"

"It's close to five, sir."

"Yes? What happens at five?

"I have a date," she said with a smile.

"Congratulations, Hildi," Cormac said, a bit confused. "And you're sharing this why?"

"It's Valentine's day, sir. My boyfriend is taking me out to dinner. I had hoped I could leave a bit early?"

Cormac tried not to roll his eyes. "Fine, Hildi." He forced a smile. "Have a nice night."

"Thank you!" she said as she turned and practically skipped out of the office.

Cormac waited until she closed the door behind her to drop his head onto his desk with a thud. "Damn it!" he cursed. "It's Valentine's day?" He groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. He truly despised Valentine's Day and everything it stood for. As a matter of principle, he made sure to never be dating anyone anywhere near the day in question. Women would get all mushy and want some grand declaration of love. As if.

But Pansy, he thought. This year was different. His relationship with Pansy had definitely snuck up on him, catching him in a delightful stranglehold, and he hadn't noticed it until it had been too late to do anything about it. Until he hadn't wanted to do anything about it but stay happily entrenched in its grasp.

He wasn't sure if Pansy was up to going out to eat yet, or else he could think of a few places he could still get reservations at that would be nice enough to bring Pansy. Between his ties in the Ministry and the Liberi, getting a table wasn't ever a problem anymore. But no, dinner was probably out of the question. Jewelry? She certainly had a lot of that, and besides, it was far too late to start looking now. Picking out jewelry for Pansy was something that required time and effort. He was sure she'd be able to spot a last minute gift.

Something that says I care for her. Something I can give her that can't be bought? He poured himself a drink and pondered for awhile on what he could do for Pansy to show her he appreciated her. His thoughts turned to her abduction and how he'd love to hand her Crabbe all shredded to pieces in a box. A touch too Morbid? He still couldn't believe that Oscar, the little shite, had just watched Crabbe take her and do nothing to stop him. "That's it!" He laughed and jumped to his feet. "Oscar!"

He grabbed his wand and rushed down to the holding cell where they were keeping Oscar. Rejoicing in the emptiness of the area, Cormac unlocked the cell and stepped inside.

"Oscar, you piece of filth. I wish I could say it was a pleasure to see you again."

"Why is you here?" Oscar intoned in his deep baritone, shrinking into the corner of the cell.

"We're leaving now. You have a date with your mistress. I do so love happy reunions. Not that yours will be."

"Oh!" the elf exclaimed, with false sincerity. "Mistress is alright, Mistress is well, Oscar had so hoped that she would be."

"Silence," Cormac said. "You will not be talking about your mistress. You lost that privilege when you betrayed her, you sorry heap of dragon dung." He took Oscar by the arm and led him to the floo area. "Hold on tight, maggot."

****

Cormac stepped out of the fireplace in Pansy's sitting room with Oscar in tow. He was feeling rather idiotic, considering he had taken a suspect out of Ministry detention and now had no idea what to do with him or even if Pansy would want to see him.

"Pansy?" he called.

Pansy put down the book she was reading and started downstairs to the sitting room , where Cormac was shouting his head off. Frowning, she pushed open the door and froze at the sight of her errant House Elf being held by the scrap of fabric around his neck.

She took a few steps closer, her face set in a mask of anger and hate, and glanced at Cormac. "What is that doing here?"

He hesitated, hoping she wasn't displeased with him. "I thought you might like to dispose of him properly."

Pansy backed up and stepped into the corridor. "Outside," she said pointing in the direction of the front doors. "I want that thing out of my house. Get it out, and I'll deal with him out there."

She kept her wand trained on him as Cormac dragged him through the hallways, taking care to slam him into every available flat surface, she was pleased to see. She opened the front doors with her wand, and Cormac threw him out onto the front steps, where the elf landed in a heap, wincing in pain.

Still keeping her wand pointed at the elf, she began speaking softly. "How dare you? You little puss-filled bag of shite. You disgrace the name of house elf. You watched, you horrific little bastard. You watched, and did nothing. He was hurting me, and you did nothing. You allowed him to take me. You could have prevented it, but instead, you chose to dishonor elves everywhere, you ridiculous, pathetic excuse for your kind."

As Cormac listened to Pansy hurling accusations at Oscar, his rage and horror grew. He knew the elf hadn't defended her against Crabbe, but hearing the hurt and betrayal in Pansy's voice was more than he could bear. He picked up Oscar again by the neck and proceeded to punch him repeatedly, each jab followed by a curse. When that stopped being enough for him, he opted to strangle the little berk and he found the sounds coming from Oscar to be particularly enjoyable.

Pansy watched Cormac beat Oscar in stunned silence. Honestly, she hadn't known that Cormac had it in him to do or say any of that. Appearances are deceiving, she thought, feeling a rush of affection for Cormac, and she put her hand lightly on his arm.

"Darling?" she said softly. "You need to stop. I think he's actually enjoying that."

Cormac paused at the touch of Pansy's hand on his arm. "I suppose I was too." He met her eyes. "I'm sorry if I upset you."

"I'm not upset." She gazed at the loathsome creature that Cormac had dropped on the ground. "I just really think he was having a good time. "Besides, I've been thinking about this for a while."

At a murmured spell, a bundle of black fabric came barrelling towards them from the inside of the house and Pansy caught it handily. She gave Cormac a small smile, and then looked back at the elf, her expression turning to ice. "Listen you," she began, walking around the huddled creature. "You've broken the cardinal rule for a house elf. You left your Mistress. You let him take me. You no longer deserve a place here. The Parkinsons' no longer want your service."

Oscar began whining, "No, Mistress, please, Oscar is sorry! Oscar didn't mean-"

Cormac pointed his wand at the elf. "I told you not to talk to her," he said coldly.

Pansy touched Cormac's arm affectionately, then turned her attention back to Oscar. She thrust the bundle of black cloth at the elf. "Clothes. My father's old robes, ironically."

The elf wailed loudly, his cries echoing against the stone edifice of the manor.

Pansy pointed her wand arm at the creature, her hand shaking as much as her voice. "You will never, ever come here again. You are banished from Parkinson Estate, and you are never to come within a mile of me ever again, do you hear? I don't want to see you, hear about you, or so much as be in the same room with you for the rest of my life."

Cormac took Pansy by arm and began to lead her up the steps and back into the Manor. He looked back once to see Oscar silently imploring Pansy with his eyes to assist him in some way, to take back what she said, anything. "And that's how I imagined she looked at you," he said softly to Oscar, and kicked the door shut in his face.

****************

Cormac led Pansy into her sitting room and arranged for Beren to bring tea. They sat on the couch and he turned to her with a half smile on his face. "So in my mind, bringing the elf to you was entirely more of a romantic gesture than it turned out to be."

Pansy glanced at him and smiled softly. "You did help me tick something off my to-do list. I do so hate letting things pile up," she said wryly. Leaning over to kiss him, she said, "Anyway, darling. Chapter closed. I actually feel a little better."

"You do? I didn't just monumentally screw up?" he asked softly. She is way too good for me.

She reached up and touched his face lightly. "No, darling. You were perfect."

"Thanks, doll. Same to you." He smiled, and noticing the locket around her neck shimmering in the firelight, touched it with his fingertips. "Have you figured how to open it yet?" he asked.

She looked at him in surprise. "No. I thought it was an antique. Broken. I only tried once." She held it between her fingertips and looked at him. "How?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Surely you don't think I'm going to give that secret away, do you?" He smirked. "You just tell me when it opens, alright?"

Pansy smiled and looked at him critically. "Alright," she said, wondering what the secrecy was about. "You'll be the first to know."

{Summary: While most men just send flowers or give chocolates, Cormac McLaggen sets a new bar for Valentine's day gifts. Oscar gets the boot and Pansy learns there's a secret to opening her locket.}

Comfort comes...

2008-05-27T12:14:36Z

Pansy sat in the middle of her bed, her back up against the headboard, knees drawn up to her chest, and wand firmly in her hand, eyes trained on the door. She was contented to be surrounded with familiar things, and she was feeling much better. Everything still twinged a bit, but on the whole, she thought she was lucky to have escaped with the injuries that she did.

Beren was under strict orders not to let anyone in without her express permission, she'd threatened him with clothes, with pain, with death, and the elf had merely nodded solemnly, a sad expression on his almost-human face.

Cormac had owled and said that he'd be by, and somehow, she was nervous about seeing him. Worried that he wouldn't see her the same way, that she'd somehow been sullied by him, or just all around too much trouble to keep coming around. Pansy sighed. This line of thought would not do. He was coming to see her. He'd said so. He'd come. Like he'd come before. And everything would be fine.

The wards chimed, and Beren appeared immediately. "It's Mr. McLaggen, Mistress."

Pansy nodded, silently telling the elf to allow him in. She didn't move from her spot on the bed, not taking her eyes from the door.

Today was Cormac's first day back at work since Pansy had been found and he had barely made it until the five o'clock hour when he felt it would be acceptable for him to leave. Arriving at Parkinson Manor, Cormac all but ran up the stairs and down the hall to Pansy's bedroom. He knocked softly on her bedroom door before slowly entering. He forced a smile onto his face upon seeing her--it wasn't that he was unhappy to see her, but seeing her in the position she was in disturbed him. He kicked his shoes off, tossed his cloak on the back of a chair and climbed onto the bed by Pansy. "Hey, doll," he said, scooting next to her and putting an arm around her. "Alright?"

She relaxed slightly. He was here, and he wasn't going to let anything happen to her. She leaned her head against his shoulder and let out the breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. She nodded. "Yes," she whispered. "I'm fine."

He immediately called for Beren. Upon his arrival, Cormac said, "Please bring up a tea tray and perhaps some sandwiches and soup for Mistress Pansy."

Beren nodded, not looking at Pansy for approval. The girl needs to eat, the elf thought. He was glad that the young man had come back. Someone needed to watch over her.

Cormac took one of Pansy's hands in his and squeezed lightly. "Is there anything you want to do? Do you want me to put some music on?" He paused. "Shall I read to you?"

She looked at him with a half smile on her face. "You want to read to me?" She reached up and touched his face lightly. "That might be the sweetest thing I've ever heard."

Cormac smiled and blushed slightly. "It's what my mother used to do when I was upset. After my father died, we got through Willard Price's entire 'Adventure' series before I left for Hogwarts."

Pansy looked at him with interested expression. "You did?"

Beren reappeared with a tea tray and set it on the side table closest to Cormac. "Here, doll," he said, handing her a cup of tea. "You get started on this and I'll go find a book--unless you have a favorite?"

She caught his hand and stopped him, setting the tea back on the tray. Pulling him next to her and settling in next to him, she asked, "Why don't you tell me about your family? About your childhood, maybe? I'm sure you gave your mum fits." She sat back up and looked at him, after he was silent for a moment. "Would that be alright? You don't have to."

"No, that's fine," he said, clearly surprised, but willing to do this for Pansy. He handed her back her cup of tea and a plate with a small sandwich on it. "Please eat something, though. Alright? For me?"

She nodded, knowing that she needed to eat. She'd easily lost a stone by not touching the food that Vincent had brought her during her two week stay with him, thinking that it would be poisoned, or worse, drugged. She shrugged and sipped her tea, and nibbled at the edge of the sandwich. Looking up at Cormac, she saw he wore a concerned, perhaps even displeased, expression.

"Alright," she conceded. "Don't frown at me. I'll eat."

She reached for the still steaming bowl of soup that Beren had brought, and put the spoon in it, stirring it idly, and looked up at him again, expectantly.

"You actually have to put the spoon in your mouth for it to work," he said dryly.

She smiled. "You know my tricks. Most people don't watch so closely." She sighed and had several spoonfuls of soup before she pushed it away. "Enough?"

"For now."

"Good." She propped her head up on the pillow, tucking her wand underneath, and turned to face him. "Go on, then. Tell me what a rotten wee bairn you were."

With his arm wrapped around her waist, he began to talk of his childhood while watching Pansy's face. "I was, exactly as you guessed, a horrible little bugger of a child. Precocious, my mum would probably call me. I was early to walk, fly, you name it--if it was exciting and there was a chance I'd get hurt, I was all about it." He smiled fondly as he thought of something. "My mother loves to tell of the time my Uncle Tiberius gave me my first broom on my second birthday. Luckily, my birthday's in late spring, so the very next morning when I woke up--still clutching the broom in my hands--I took it out for a test spin. Of course I don't remember any of this, it could be pure slander on my mother's part, but she says that I woke her and my father up by screaming bloody murder from the top of the tree just outside their bedroom window." He scoffed. "I can't imagine even my two-year-old self screaming like a child, can you?"

She laughed softly. "No, I can't."

"Apparently my uncle had disabled the protective charm on the broom that kept it from going more than a few feet off the ground. He's never been one to coddle children--he took me hunting for Nogtails when I was just seven. My father protested, but he knew in the end it was a losing battle and he came along, too, of course."

"Nogtails?" She blanched. "Bit dangerous for a child, but you don't look the worse for wear, do you?" She smiled and ran a finger along his shirt collar. "I drove my mum mad as well. Had a smart mouth." She glanced at him. "I know that must shock you terribly."

For the first time since Pansy had been taken, Cormac laughed out loud, with feeling. "You? A smart mouth? No. I just can't see it, sorry."

She raised and eybrow and gave him a saucy look. "I remember that I was five, old enough to be in nursery school, and I said something awful to Delphine-I don't remember exactly what- and she swatted my bum with her wand. I remember distinctly turning around to her, and saying imperiously, 'I didn't deserve that.'" She giggled. "The woman clearly didn't know what to do with me. I only ever got worse."

He chuckled, and reached for her hand, kissing it softly. "She clearly didn't recognize that you were honing an important life skill. Parents don't seem to appreciate things like that, no?"

"Delphine certainly didn't. But she didn't get most things. Dreadfully vague. I'm sure your mother was more aware of what was going on about her. She'd have to be, to watch out for you."

"She certainly tried, but truthfully, she couldn't keep up with me." He smiled broadly. "That's where my father came in--he was more my partner in crime than my father-figure. My poor mother."

"He sounds like fun to me." He nodded slightly, and she continued. "Is your mother a worrier, then? Mine fretted constantly, but then, I was her daughter," she said with a mischievous smile.

Cormac rolled his eyes. "Pansy, I can't see how your mother got even a moment's sleep with you as her daughter. You're beautiful. That alone would give me an ulcer if I ever had a daughter." He snorted at the idea of himself with children. "As for my mother? She's eased up a bit, thank Merlin. Now that she realizes I can keep myself alive and maintain a flat, she's much easier to tolerate."

"And the fact that she doesn't know what you get up to on a daily basis should ease her nerves a bit, I should think." She thought a moment and he could see that she decided to say what was on her mind. "And I wasn't always pretty. So that wasn't what would drive mum mad."

"There's a lot more to your beauty than a perfect nose, doll."

She smiled and brought him down to her lips, kissing him sweetly, then she leaned back on the pillow and looked up at Cormac. "In any case, it was fightfully easy to confound my mother. We all used to hide from her. When it was her turn to child mind, you see. It was right before Hogwarts, so that would make us ten? We'd all play in the gardens here, Draco, Tracey, Gregory," Vincent, "Blaise, the whole lot of us. We'd hide for hours 'til she called herself hoarse." Sighing, she looked up at the ceiling. "Patience is the key to tormenting someone, I think."

He noticed her omission of Crabbe and didn't mention it. "Patience, you say? I'll have to remember that then." He looked at Pansy and sighed. "I'm rather envious that you grew up with so many friends. Of course, my father and uncle saw to it that I was never lacking for companionship or entertainment, but it would have been nice to have friends my age..." he trailed off.

"It was nice to have them. I'm still glad that I have them," she said, thinking fondly of Draco's visit, "as my own family has rather dried up and blown away. But the only reason that we were friends at all is that our fathers all had the same hobby. And that our blood was pure." She paused thoughtfully. "Except for Blaise. The father thing, not the pure blood. He was too pretty to exclude, I suppose." She yawned and settled back down, looking at him.

She studied Cormac for a few moments through heavy-lidded eyes, so very glad that he was there with her. She felt safer, somehow. Less wary of what could come through the door.

Pansy held his hand again, tracing little patterns on it with her thumb. "You didn't have any friends when you were a child?" she asked softly, stifling a yawn. "What about Be-Katie?"

"Sure, she was my friend at Hogwarts. But before that, no, there weren't many children around. My dad had a close friend who had a daughter a few years younger than me and we would play. It seems I've always gotten on better with girls than boys." He couldn't help but wink.

"I can't imagine why. Girls are horrific," she said sleepily, smiling at him. "You should stay away from them at all costs. With me as an exception, of course." She closed her eyes, and relaxed into him, letting him hold her. "I've always had boy friends rather than girls. Tracey is the exception to the rule," she murmured softly.

"She seems like a good friend," he said, noticing she was already mostly asleep. "I'm so glad I found you, Pansy." He wasn't sure if she heard him, but it felt nice to say it all the same.

{Summary: Cormac and Pansy share a quiet moment; they talk about being dangerous, mothers and how to go about tormenting someone the correct way.}