Mistake, Angelina/Montague
Title: Mistake
Genre: Harry Potter
Main Pair/Char: Angelina Johnson/Montague
Beta'd: Nope
Rating: PG13
Length: 1376 words
Prompt: Mistake, (9/50)
Posted at: lions_serpents
Author's Note: I suppose a sequel to Window, but also another prompt for my table. And just to clarify, Montague is a total jerk but Angelina still likes him for some unknown reason. Also, please, please, point out mistakes to me as this hasn't been beta'd.
Montague stared at his reflection and restrained himself from fussing with his robes.
It was the evening of the Midsummer Banquet and he was waiting for Johnson to pick him up.
And she was late.
Scowling, he gave in and started adjusting his cufflinks again. They were heirlooms of his great uncle Thadeus and didn’t fit too well. Montague would’ve preferred a new designer pair, perhaps diamonds, but with his salary it would be sacrificing food for a month. Sighing, he struggled to make do and wondered again what was taking Johnson so long.
It was bad enough that she was picking him up, but she had to be late as well. Montague had agreed to go the Banquet with her because he knew the opportunity to mingle with the higher level employees and managers was too good to pass up. It wasn’t until later, after he had time to think it through, did he realize the downfall.
Johnson had asked him to go. Johnson was going to pick him up. He was going to be her date, not the other way around.
Obviously Montague had some issues with this fact.
What kind of wizard was he letting Johnson call the shots? Granted she was the tiniest bit taller than him and had the build of an Amazon, but he was a wizard and she was a witch. He should be taking her on the date, not the other way around.
He struggled with this thinking for a few days, weighing the opportunity of rubbing shoulders with the higher-ups and the feminization of being Johnson’s date. It wasn’t until he made a few more realizations that the internal battle ended and he decided to go.
She had stood outside his office for weeks. Johnson had asked him to go. She was going to pick him up.
Johnson was clearly mad for him. The idea made Montague smirk.
Who could blame her really? He was a handsome wizard and, though Johnson obviously wasn’t concerned with it, a pureblood with old family lines. He was a catch.
The sound of the fire flaring up announced Johnson’s arrival. He quickly strolled into the living room, ready to demand where she had been, but stopped as soon as he saw her.
Clad in indecently cut, Gryffindor-red robes, Johnson had his jaw dropping. Her hair was up and looking elegant, her dark skin was shinning in the fire light, and her legs looked miles long. And that was before he saw the cleavage.
“Look good, don’t I?” She grinned fiercely. “Ali and Katie do good work.”
“They sure as hell do,” Montague found himself muttering.
Angelina laughed and Montague blushed before glaring at her.
“If you’re ready we can leave and only be thirty minutes late,” he snapped, offering his arm stiffly.
Johnson just smirked and tucked her arm through his. He was surprised to see that next to his, her arm looked small and graceful.
But then she squeezed his arm so tightly it hurt and he could see the muscles tense under the smooth skin. Looking up he saw her wicked smile.
Delicate, Johnson was not.
They flooed to the large hall where the banquet was being held, just in time for an annoying reporter to snap their picture. Montague scowled at the reporter, angry at the ambush but Angelina was so annoyed she tried to wrest the camera from him. Montague hurried her along before she could make more of a scene.
This, he realized, was a mistake.
When he tried to start up a conversation with his managers Johnson dragged him out to the dance floor. He could only assume she wanted to dance but the spastic movements she was making looked more like a seizure than dancing. He managed to distract her by suggesting they get something to eat.
That wasn’t a good idea because when they perused the banquet table Johnson piled food atop her plate as if she were starving. He wasn’t sure how she hadn’t ballooned to Umbridge size if she ate that much regularly. Montague tried to ignore the blatant stares they were receiving but couldn't quite manage it. He settled for intimidating glares in return until the small crowd got the message and started gazing elsewhere. The only good thing that came from the episode was that he could see more of Johnson’s cleavage when she leaned over the table to reach for the pastries.
The evening continued on in a similar manner. Every time Montague attempted to do something to promote his chances at work, Johnson inevitably stepped in to distract and/or embarrass him into moving away. He almost thought she was sabotaging him for real this time but her bright eyes were strangely innocent and eager to please.
By the time they were heading back to the floo entrance Montague had resigned himself to just following Johnson and ending the disastrous evening as soon as possible. They flooed to his flat and when they arrived he slowly removed his outer robes to toss upon the couch.
Johnson was practically bouncing around his apartment, most likely from all the sweets she inhaled, and still talking continuously.
“I can’t believe Rupert didn’t come. That prat told me he was going to bring Tricia but they probably got sidetracked snogging somewhere.” Angelina went on, flinging her coat off.
Stretching her arms up and above her head, lengthening her torso and thrusting out her breasts even further (to Montague’s annoyance), Johnson gave a little yawn. The first sign of tiredness she had shown that night. Montague watched her silently, leaning his hip against the couch arm.
The quiet only lasted a few seconds before Johnson’s bright eyes found his and an almost predatory smile curled on her face. Montague would’ve run if he were a lesser wizard.
Sauntering over to him, Johnson wasted no time pressing her body up against his, long arms wrapping around his neck and her mouth moving closer to his. Montague tensed for an instant, feeling her breasts against his chest, before nimbly slipping away from her.
Johnson blinked, confusion written on her face, and then her eyes turned cold.
“Was I too inappropriate Montague? Too forceful for a girl?” she drawled, sounding as if she heard the words a million times.
She was smiling, a harsh, forced smile, and he could see that her eyes were shinning more than usual.
He laughed. “Inappropriate? You were downright unseemly.”
He ignored her stunned face and went on, moving to lean in front of the fireplace. “You realize that woman you tried to “fix her back muggle style” was the wife of Phillip Brewster?”
“It’s called chiropracty and Katie says-” Johnson started defiantly but Montague just kept laughing.
Angelina clenched her fist at her sides and he was sure her eyes would start flaming any second now. Then her expression changed from indignant anger to something else.
“Fine,” her voice sounded strange. “Fine. I thought you would be different. You always treated me differently in school, never surprised by what I said or did like everyone else, but fine.”
She stomped around in her ridiculously high heels as she ranted, picking up her coat and purse, before turning to go. Montague didn’t move out of her way, just watched her.
“I thought you were at least man enough to be okay with it,” she snarled, but her heart wasn’t in it.
She tried to push past him but found he didn’t move. In fact, she found herself trapped in his arms, her body pressed up against him again.
“First, I’m a wizard,” he was telling her softly, his face suddenly close. “And second, I like to make the first move.”
And then he did.
When he felt her body soften in his arms and felt her breathy sigh against his lips as he kissed her, Montague thought maybe he was wrong thinking this a mistake earlier. She smelled exciting; fiery, passionate, with just a hint of sweetness. She tasted even better.
Then he felt her small hands tighten on his shoulders and he found himself thrown upon the couch. Before he could protest the mistreatment of his body and furniture, Angelina launched herself upon him.
Then again, maybe he was right.
Genre: Harry Potter
Main Pair/Char: Angelina Johnson/Montague
Beta'd: Nope
Rating: PG13
Length: 1376 words
Prompt: Mistake, (9/50)
Posted at: lions_serpents
Author's Note: I suppose a sequel to Window, but also another prompt for my table. And just to clarify, Montague is a total jerk but Angelina still likes him for some unknown reason. Also, please, please, point out mistakes to me as this hasn't been beta'd.
Montague stared at his reflection and restrained himself from fussing with his robes.
It was the evening of the Midsummer Banquet and he was waiting for Johnson to pick him up.
And she was late.
Scowling, he gave in and started adjusting his cufflinks again. They were heirlooms of his great uncle Thadeus and didn’t fit too well. Montague would’ve preferred a new designer pair, perhaps diamonds, but with his salary it would be sacrificing food for a month. Sighing, he struggled to make do and wondered again what was taking Johnson so long.
It was bad enough that she was picking him up, but she had to be late as well. Montague had agreed to go the Banquet with her because he knew the opportunity to mingle with the higher level employees and managers was too good to pass up. It wasn’t until later, after he had time to think it through, did he realize the downfall.
Johnson had asked him to go. Johnson was going to pick him up. He was going to be her date, not the other way around.
Obviously Montague had some issues with this fact.
What kind of wizard was he letting Johnson call the shots? Granted she was the tiniest bit taller than him and had the build of an Amazon, but he was a wizard and she was a witch. He should be taking her on the date, not the other way around.
He struggled with this thinking for a few days, weighing the opportunity of rubbing shoulders with the higher-ups and the feminization of being Johnson’s date. It wasn’t until he made a few more realizations that the internal battle ended and he decided to go.
She had stood outside his office for weeks. Johnson had asked him to go. She was going to pick him up.
Johnson was clearly mad for him. The idea made Montague smirk.
Who could blame her really? He was a handsome wizard and, though Johnson obviously wasn’t concerned with it, a pureblood with old family lines. He was a catch.
The sound of the fire flaring up announced Johnson’s arrival. He quickly strolled into the living room, ready to demand where she had been, but stopped as soon as he saw her.
Clad in indecently cut, Gryffindor-red robes, Johnson had his jaw dropping. Her hair was up and looking elegant, her dark skin was shinning in the fire light, and her legs looked miles long. And that was before he saw the cleavage.
“Look good, don’t I?” She grinned fiercely. “Ali and Katie do good work.”
“They sure as hell do,” Montague found himself muttering.
Angelina laughed and Montague blushed before glaring at her.
“If you’re ready we can leave and only be thirty minutes late,” he snapped, offering his arm stiffly.
Johnson just smirked and tucked her arm through his. He was surprised to see that next to his, her arm looked small and graceful.
But then she squeezed his arm so tightly it hurt and he could see the muscles tense under the smooth skin. Looking up he saw her wicked smile.
Delicate, Johnson was not.
They flooed to the large hall where the banquet was being held, just in time for an annoying reporter to snap their picture. Montague scowled at the reporter, angry at the ambush but Angelina was so annoyed she tried to wrest the camera from him. Montague hurried her along before she could make more of a scene.
This, he realized, was a mistake.
When he tried to start up a conversation with his managers Johnson dragged him out to the dance floor. He could only assume she wanted to dance but the spastic movements she was making looked more like a seizure than dancing. He managed to distract her by suggesting they get something to eat.
That wasn’t a good idea because when they perused the banquet table Johnson piled food atop her plate as if she were starving. He wasn’t sure how she hadn’t ballooned to Umbridge size if she ate that much regularly. Montague tried to ignore the blatant stares they were receiving but couldn't quite manage it. He settled for intimidating glares in return until the small crowd got the message and started gazing elsewhere. The only good thing that came from the episode was that he could see more of Johnson’s cleavage when she leaned over the table to reach for the pastries.
The evening continued on in a similar manner. Every time Montague attempted to do something to promote his chances at work, Johnson inevitably stepped in to distract and/or embarrass him into moving away. He almost thought she was sabotaging him for real this time but her bright eyes were strangely innocent and eager to please.
By the time they were heading back to the floo entrance Montague had resigned himself to just following Johnson and ending the disastrous evening as soon as possible. They flooed to his flat and when they arrived he slowly removed his outer robes to toss upon the couch.
Johnson was practically bouncing around his apartment, most likely from all the sweets she inhaled, and still talking continuously.
“I can’t believe Rupert didn’t come. That prat told me he was going to bring Tricia but they probably got sidetracked snogging somewhere.” Angelina went on, flinging her coat off.
Stretching her arms up and above her head, lengthening her torso and thrusting out her breasts even further (to Montague’s annoyance), Johnson gave a little yawn. The first sign of tiredness she had shown that night. Montague watched her silently, leaning his hip against the couch arm.
The quiet only lasted a few seconds before Johnson’s bright eyes found his and an almost predatory smile curled on her face. Montague would’ve run if he were a lesser wizard.
Sauntering over to him, Johnson wasted no time pressing her body up against his, long arms wrapping around his neck and her mouth moving closer to his. Montague tensed for an instant, feeling her breasts against his chest, before nimbly slipping away from her.
Johnson blinked, confusion written on her face, and then her eyes turned cold.
“Was I too inappropriate Montague? Too forceful for a girl?” she drawled, sounding as if she heard the words a million times.
She was smiling, a harsh, forced smile, and he could see that her eyes were shinning more than usual.
He laughed. “Inappropriate? You were downright unseemly.”
He ignored her stunned face and went on, moving to lean in front of the fireplace. “You realize that woman you tried to “fix her back muggle style” was the wife of Phillip Brewster?”
“It’s called chiropracty and Katie says-” Johnson started defiantly but Montague just kept laughing.
Angelina clenched her fist at her sides and he was sure her eyes would start flaming any second now. Then her expression changed from indignant anger to something else.
“Fine,” her voice sounded strange. “Fine. I thought you would be different. You always treated me differently in school, never surprised by what I said or did like everyone else, but fine.”
She stomped around in her ridiculously high heels as she ranted, picking up her coat and purse, before turning to go. Montague didn’t move out of her way, just watched her.
“I thought you were at least man enough to be okay with it,” she snarled, but her heart wasn’t in it.
She tried to push past him but found he didn’t move. In fact, she found herself trapped in his arms, her body pressed up against him again.
“First, I’m a wizard,” he was telling her softly, his face suddenly close. “And second, I like to make the first move.”
And then he did.
When he felt her body soften in his arms and felt her breathy sigh against his lips as he kissed her, Montague thought maybe he was wrong thinking this a mistake earlier. She smelled exciting; fiery, passionate, with just a hint of sweetness. She tasted even better.
Then he felt her small hands tighten on his shoulders and he found himself thrown upon the couch. Before he could protest the mistreatment of his body and furniture, Angelina launched herself upon him.
Then again, maybe he was right.