Revenge By Any Other Name (Where One Worries) - Harry/Pansy - 7/?
Series Title: Revenge by Any Other Name
Chapter Title: Where One Worries (7/?)
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Harry/Pansy
Prompt: #07 - Days
Word Count: 4161
Rating: PG/PG-13
Summary: He never planned to actually worry about her….
A/N: This story will not be a epic multiparter like I planned. Look for only 20 chapters total (if that many).
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“Harry. Harry, are you even listening to me?”
Harry looked up from the kitchen table to see Hermione sitting across from him, an agitated look on her face.
“Welcome back,” she said, closing up her notebook and sitting back in her chair. “Did you even hear a word I said?”
“Sorry,” he muttered with a frown, gently rubbing his forehead. “I guess I just kinda…”
“Zoned out?” she finished for him, and Harry responded with a slight nod. Her previously annoyed expression softened into one of concern. “You’ve been doing that quite a lot this weekend, Harry? Is everything okay?”
Harry nodded, a faint smile on his face. “I’m fine, Hermione. Promise. Just a few things on my mind is all.”
She stared at him with that same accusing look she gave him every time she caught him in a middle of a lie. “Harry…”
“Honest, Hermione, everything is fine.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Seamus entered the kitchen, Ron following in step behind him. Seamus patted Harry roughly on the back in greeting.
“Harry, we’re off to get some drinks,” he announced.
Hermione gave Ron an accusing look, but he shrugged it off with a sheepish smile. “Well, we could all use a good break.” He motioned towards Harry. “Especially him!”
Harry blinked, sitting up straighter in his chair. “No, I’m fine”
Seamus smirked, folding his arms over his chest. “Come on, Harry, even Neville is coming out with us.”
Ron nodded in agreement. “He makes a good point, Harry.”
Hermione stood with a roll of her eyes, holding her notebook tightly against her chest. “Well, you lot have fun,” she said as she started out of the kitchen. “And please try not to cause any trouble this time?” She gave Ron a pointed look.
“That was Dean and Seamus!” Ron countered to her look of disapproval.
Hermione simply nodded as she leaned in close to him, whispering, “See what’s up with Harry, would you?”
Ron nodded, and Hermione gave him a quick kiss on the lips before walking out of the kitchen, offering Seamus and Harry a small wave goodbye.
Seamus gave Harry’s shoulder a shove of encouragement. “Come on, Harry, do whatever it is you do to make yourself presentable so we can get the hell out of here for a while.”
Harry nodded, knowing there was no way he would be able to convince his friends to leave him be with his thoughts. “I’ll meet you guys in a second.”
Seamus and Ron both gave him a nod before leaving him alone in the kitchen. Harry watched after them with a frown. He knew each of them were only trying in their own way--Hermione with her questions of concern and his mates with their prospect of drinking--to get him out of his self-imposed rut, but he wasn’t in the mood tonight.
Not when he was this distracted.
Friday night had come and gone without a single word from Pansy. He had waited around for over an hour, pacing the small room and checking his watch for what seemed like every five minutes, before deciding to simply head home. Afterwards, he had waited patiently for an owl to explain the woman’s absence, but no such owl came.
Two nights had passed and still no word.
And though he would never admit it to anyone, he was actually a bit worried. If he had learned anything about Pansy over the past few weeks, it was that she was typically punctual, and if she wasn’t, she made sure to inform him of why she would be running behind schedule. So to have no word before Friday and then continue to have no word after their night had passed was unusual.
There was no way he would contact her. That would be opening them both up to danger if she were, in fact, okay, but he wished there was some way to get in contact with the woman. Just to know she was still alive.
With a sigh, Harry pushed himself from his seat to go join his friends.
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“The Cannons are gonna blow them out of the water next game,” Dean announced before taking a shot of firewhiskey.
Seamus scoffed into his own drink. “Have you even seen McWilliams playing this year? He’d have a better shot if he just played drunk!”
Harry shook his head, slightly amused, as he listened to his friends go on about the recent Quidditch matchups. At times, it was easy to forget that they were long from Hogwarts, that they were in the middle of a war that had already claimed the lives of some of their schoolmates. And though the moments were far and few between, where they were simply a group of young men sitting around having drinks as they discussed sports and women, Harry welcomed them.
“So, you okay mate?” Ron asked as Dean and Seamus pulled Neville into their debate on who would or wouldn’t make the next World Cup.
Harry looked up from his drink with a slight smirk. “How much did she pay you to ask?”
Ron laughed quietly before taking a sip from his bottle. “She’s just worried. You know how she gets.”
He nodded. “Believe me, I do, but it’s not necessary. I really am fine.”
“I’ve been trying to tell her that for the past week. She won’t hear of it, you know.” He took a drink. “Especially with you being AWOL every Friday night.”
“I’m not AWOL,” Harry replied with a slight roll of his eyes. “I’m meeting an informant, and it’s the only night she can get free.”
“She?” Ron asked after a beat, his eyebrows raised. “You never said your informant was a she.”
Harry smirked. “I didn’t realize it mattered.”
“Mate, you’re off every Friday night with a woman, and you fail to tell me this?”
“Potter has a woman?” Seamus chimed in, suddenly re-entering their conversation.
Harry turned to him quickly. “No!”
“Why didn’t we know you were seeing some girl?” Dean inquired with a grin.
“Cause I’m not,” Harry countered. “She’s an informant. It’s not like that.”
Ron snorted into his drink as Dean, Seamus, and even Neville shared a look. Harry rolled his eyes at his friends, taking a long drink from his own bottle as his friends began to bombard him with probing questions. Seamus was in the middle of asking him if his so-called informant was easy on the eyes when something just over Seamus’s shoulder caught Harry’s attention.
A woman entered the pub, draped in a dark green cloak against the cool night air. The hood of the cloak was pulled up to hide her face, but strands of dark hair fell out over the collar. She moved towards the bar, effectively turning her back to Harry.
“Mate, you with us?”
Seamus snapped his fingers in front of Harry’s face, forcing Harry to force his attention away from the woman.
“Huh?” he managed in response.
Dean shook his head. “No one is better than ignoring people than you, Harry.”
“I wasn’t ignoring….” Harry said, his gaze traveling once more past his friends and towards the bar where the woman now sat, the hood of her cloak down.
“Someone cute come in or something?” Seamus asked, turning in his chair to see what or who exactly Harry was staring at.
“I’ll be back.” Harry slid out of the booth and started towards the bar, leaving his friends to all look at each other in confusion.
He was going to kill Parkinson. She had some nerve, making him worry about her damn well-being when the entire time, she had been fine. Perfectly fine. And following him around into local pubs. How hard was it to send a bloody owl just so he could have known she wasn’t lying dead somewhere because of him?
Harry set his jaw as he tapped the brunette on the shoulder. When she turned to greet him, all the righteous anger he had been feeling, slipped away.
It wasn’t her.
“May I help you?” the woman asked, giving him a curious look.
Harry blinked. “Um, sorry, I thought you were someone else.”
Harry felt the undeniable urge to bolt as he saw the woman’s eyes widen. It was the same look reporters got when they realized they were one step away from cornering the infamous Boy Who Lived into an interview. “Wait! You’re Harry Potter!”
He unconsciously smoothed a hand down his bangs. “Um….”
“Can I buy you a drink?” she replied with a flirtatious smile.
“Um, perhaps some other time. Sorry about the, uh, tapping.” Before the woman could even get out another word, Harry made a beeline back to his table with his friends.
“What was that all about?” Ron asked with a raised eyebrow.
Harry shook his head. “Nothing. Just someone I thought I knew.”
“So, you never answered my question,” Seamus prodded.
“Which?”
“The one where I asked if this informant looked nicer than some of the other informants we’ve met over the years.”
Harry shrugged. “Well, she’s not a leper if that’s what you’re inquiring.”
“You’re avoiding the question,” Seamus smirked. He nodded towards the other men for agreement. “Tell me he’s avoiding.”
“You kinda are avoiding, Harry,” Neville said apologetically.
“I’m not--” He stopped with a sigh. “Whatever. I suppose she’s pretty….”
He shook his head, taking another drink. Never in a million years did he ever think he’d be sitting around with his friends discussing the attractiveness of Pansy Parkinson. The brunette he had mistaken for her was now joined by friends, and Harry could only imagine she was speaking excitedly about her encounter with the Boy Who Lived.
As the waitress returned to get a new drink order from their table, Harry’s friends forgot about their probing questions for the time being. And for that, Harry was more than glad.
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As Harry closed his flat door, locking it securely behind himself, he felt a small pang of guilt at leaving his friends so abruptly at the pub, but he just didn’t have it in him. Not tonight. Not when he was, annoyingly enough, still wondering about Parkinson’s welfare. Besides, he figured that they would all soon forget about his absence from the table as the drinks continued to flow.
He sighed as he shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the couch. Flopping back onto the cushions, he rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes. He had almost drifted to a much-needed slumber when someone knocked loudly on his front door.
With sleepy eyes, he glanced at his watch. Only fifteen minutes had passed since he had left his friends behind at the pub. Apparently, they hadn’t forgotten about him as quickly as he had believed they would.
Harry pushed himself from his spot on the couch and made his way to the door, expecting to see his friends on the other side, drinks in hand, as they offered to bring the drunkenness of the pub to him. But when he opened the door to greet his drunk mates, he found himself stunned to silence by who he laid eyes on instead.
Pansy Parkinson stood on his doorstep. Not only very much alive, but dressed in a way he had never seen her dressed during any of their other meetings.
She wore a smooth blue dress that clung to all her curves and trailed gently behind her onto the floor. Her long dark hair was down as it usually was when he saw her weekly, but tonight, it cascaded across her shoulders and down her back in softly curled waves.
She looked elegant. With just a touch of lethality.
“It’s rude to leave a woman standing in a hallway, you realize,” she smirked, and before he could actually invite her in, she walked by him without missing a beat.
Harry closed the door, still trying to wrap his mind around this new situation. “How did you find me?” he finally asked as he turned to her.
Pansy sat down on the arm of his couch. “I have my ways.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, suspicious. “Do I even want to know?”
Pansy’s lips curled into a small smile. “Don’t worry your little head about it, Potter. Only I know your location. No one else.”
“So, I see you’re not dead.”
“Last time I checked, no,” she replied with a quiet laugh. She smirked at him as she raised her eyebrows in curiosity. “Did the infamous Harry Potter actually worry about the welfare of a woman married to the enemy?”
“No,” he replied bluntly.
“Of course not,” she said, her smirk never wavering. “How silly of me to even think such a thing.” She slowly crossed her legs and tilted her head at him. “You’re staring yet again, Potter.”
Harry blinked, silently cursing himself for forming this horrible new habit when he hadn’t been expecting it. “Sorry, you’re just….” He motioned at her with his hand.
“Oh, don’t flatter yourself,” she replied, standing and smoothing a hand slowly down her hip. “Previous engagement tonight.”
Harry nodded, an annoyed tone to his voice when he spoke. “So, since you’re apparently alive and enjoying fancy dinners, I assume you have a good reason for not showing up Friday?”
“I apologize for that,” she said, and Harry mentally noted that he would probably never hear any variation of those words from her again. “It seems this weekend has been very busy for social gatherings. It happened at the last minute. I had no way of notifying you.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “I didn’t realize you Death Eaters were such social butterflies,” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Pansy smirked as she slowly walked around the couch, her finger trailing the back as she investigated his flat. “Sarcasm? Not becoming, Potter.”
“Why are you here? Now?” he asked, watching her cautiously as she picked up a framed picture of him, Hermione, and Ron. “I thought Fridays were the only day you could get away without suspicion.”
“Like I said, previous engagement tonight.” She set the picture back down in its spot as she continued her circle around his front room. “Death Eater dinner. Afterwards, there’s always a special meeting with the Dark Lord himself, and Blaise had to report in.”
Harry nodded slowly. “And what happens if your husband comes home to find you not there?”
Pansy turned back to him with a smirk. “I don’t plan to spend the night with you, Potter. I’m quite sure I’ll make it home before Blaise even knows.”
“So again I ask-- why are you here?”
“These dinners are always the same,” she said as she returned to her spot leaning against the arm of the couch. “Just a time for the Death Eaters to gather and pat themselves on the back for a job… not-so-well done. As hostess to these things, there’s really not much expected of me other than to be a cordial and attractive host.” She leaned forward a bit as she continued, “It never fails to amaze me how dense people can be. So dense that they spend so much time undressing me with their eyes that they don’t realize I hear every word said, even those I’m not meant to hear.”
Harry finally dropped his arms from his defensive stance, his attention now fully hers as he took two steps closer to her. “And you heard something tonight?”
Pansy smiled as she noted his change in demeanor. She stood, placing herself level with him. “Not just something, Potter. The something.” She paused for effect. “I know how to find your last little horcrux.”
Harry stared at her, not sure he was actually hearing what he was hearing. The last piece. The last horcrux. The last thing needed to end this whole mess.
As he opened his mouth to ask what exactly she knew, Harry found himself interrupted by more knocking. He quickly glanced back over his shoulder at the door before bringing his gaze back to Pansy’s. She held his stare, and for the first time he could recall, he saw a glimmer of panic in her eyes that he could only assume matched his own.
“No one else?” he asked in a hushed voice.
Pansy shook her head. “No,” she replied in the same quiet tone, “it’s impossible!”
Harry reached around her for his jacket that continued to rest on the couch. “My flat has wards,” he explained, pulling his wand from a pocket. “There’s no apparating or disapparating when inside the walls.”
“A bloody fortress, huh?” she asked, reaching for the hem of her dress.
Harry’s eyes followed her hands as Pansy lifted the bottom of her dress to mid-thigh, retrieving her wand that had been tucked inside a black garter belt wrapped around her thigh. He’d tease her about her hiding spot later, but right now, he had to get her out of his home alive.
The knocking came again, a bit harder, and they both turned to the sound. Harry stepped around her, placing himself between her and the door, before turning back to her. “Make yourself scarce.”
“What?!” she asked, dumbstruck. “Potter, if this is them, you’re going to need a second wand….”
“If this is them,” he countered, “then they’ll do worse things to you than to me.” He gave her a pointed look. “I’m sure you know the Death Eater stance on traitors.”
Pansy simply swallowed hard in response.
“Look, I realize this goes against all your stubborn upbringing, but go. Hide. Now.”
He almost wondered is she would continue to ignore his direct order, but then, she finally fixed him with a look before quickly making her way down his hallway. Harry waited for her silhouette to completely disappear into the darkness before going to the door. His hand gripped tightly to his wand, he peeked though the peephole to hopefully catch sight of his late night visitor. When he recognized the figure, he sighed in relief, slipping his wand into the back pocket of his jeans.
Harry opened the door only slightly to greet Ron, leaning against the open frame and one hand braced against the edge of the door.
“Hey, Harry, didn’t wake you, did I?” Ron asked.
Harry shook his head. “No, um…I was awake.”
“Look, mate, I know you said you were fine, but if I went back and Hermione knew I didn’t check in one last time? She’d have my hide.”
Harry couldn’t help but laugh. Hermione really would have his hide.
“So, you’re okay then?”
Harry nodded. “You can tell her I’m good. You just… caught me at a bad time.”
Ron raised an eyebrow. “Bad time?”
From somewhere down the hallway, Pansy’s voice carried to them. “Harry, love, are you coming or not? Getting mighty lonely back here.”
Ron blinked at him, a sly grin slowly spreading across his face. Harry could only clear his throat as he could feel the blush creeping up his neck.
“Bad time, huh?” Ron chuckled. “You realize you’re gonna have to share in the morning.”
“I realize,” Harry nodded. “Um, I better….” He motioned over his shoulder. “Night, Ron.”
Ron laughed, shaking his head. “Night.” With that, he started down the hallway, Harry watching him disappear around the corner at the end before finally shutting the door.
Sighing, he rested his forehead against the firm wood before finally starting down the darkened hallway to find Pansy. He found her in his bedroom at the end of the hall, sitting on the edge of his bed. She crossed her legs as she twirled her wand between her fingers.
“Thanks a lot for that,” Harry replied with a roll of his eyes. “He’s going to grill me non-stop tomorrow.”
Pansy laughed, shrugging. “So what? Just tell him you ended the night ravishing an exotically beautiful young woman.”
Harry rolled his eyes again. “I thought I told you to hide.”
“Figured when I heard Weasley’s voice, we were in the clear,” she replied with a shrug.
She eased up the hem of her dress again, and this time, Harry made sure to avert his eyes as she placed her wand back in it’s hiding space. Seeing more of her skin than he had planned to in one night would certainly do nothing for his newly formed staring habit.
“And if it hadn’t been Ron?” he asked, his gaze finally returning to her.
“Well, I would have disobeyed your order.”
“And gotten yourself killed,” he replied.
“Or saved your ass,” she countered, not missing a beat.
Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter anymore, alright? Just tell me about this horcrux deal.”
“There’s apparently a spell. It’s similar to a locater spell, actually.”
Harry scoffed as he walked over his dresser, leaning against it. “So you’re telling me all this time, all I needed was a simple locater spell?” he asked in disbelief. “Then how come it took so long for Voldemort to come up with this brilliant plan, and why hasn’t Hermione come across this in all her research?”
“I said it’s similar to a locator spell, Potter. This isn’t going to be in any books your little muggle bookworm reads.” She crossed her legs and rested her clasped hands in her lap, her debutant pose a complete contrast to the present tone on her voice. “This is old magic, very dark magic. It’s not like we’re looking for your missing keys here. We’re looking for a piece of one of the darkest soul’s ever created. To find that, you have to use the darkest magic.”
Harry ignored the chastising tone in her words. “So, we cast this spell, and we learn where the horcrux is?”
“Somewhat.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Somewhat?”
“It won’t give an exact location, but it will give a region. Within 50 miles.”
Harry nodded. “So, how do we get our hands on this spell?”
Pansy smiled. “My charm, of course.” She chuckled as he rolled his eyes again. “Blaise is in charge of collecting the necessary items for the spell. Therefore, I can easily get a copy for our use.”
“Will you have it by our next meeting?”
Pansy stood and slid a hand down her hip, smoothing a crease out of her dress. “Of course I will, Potter. Do you take me for a slacker?”
Harry scowled at her. “Well, seeing as keeping my location of secret from you has become a moot point, I suppose we could meet here next week. Cheaper and a bit less dangerous, in my opinion.”
Pansy nodded. “Then I’ll see you next week at our normal time.”
His scowl only deepened. “Don’t be late, Parkinson.”
“You were really worried when I didn’t show, weren’t you?” she smirked, a teasing tone on her voice.
Harry hesitated, his expression softening. “Just don’t be late, alright?” he repeated, those words the closest thing he would allow himself to a yes.
She nodded in understanding. “I’m nothing if not punctual.” She started towards the bedroom door. “Get some rest, Potter, you look like hell. I’ll see myself out.”
She disappeared through the doorway before he could even form a sarcastic response. He heard the front door click shut, and he fought the urge to go and make sure she actually apparated instead of risking walking away from his door. But, in the back of his mind, he knew there was no need. Pansy was trained for survival, and even she wouldn’t be thick enough to make herself an easier target by walking around by herself in Godric’s Hollow.
He sighed and walked over to his bed, collapsing back onto the spot where she had been sitting. Harry could already imagine the line of questioning coming from Ron in the morning, and he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. Little did his best mate know that Harry Potter’s wild private life was nothing more than trading insults with a former Slytherin.
Harry closed his eyes, shadows of Pansy haunting him. The hair that trailed down her back, just asking for someone to place their fingers in it and take purchase. The figure--not supermodel perfect but fitting of her-- that her stunning blue dress had only enhanced. The milky white skin he had caught a quick glimpse of as she reached for her wand….
Harry sat up quickly, nearly falling off the edge of his bed.
These were not thoughts he needed to be having. Especially not about Pansy Parkinson, who was still, by some twisted definition of the word, the enemy. And not only the enemy but married to the enemy as well.
With a shake of his head, Harry tried to rid himself of any thoughts on the brunette. Pushing himself from the bed, he began pulling off his clothes, hoping that a nice cold shower would help him get a good Pansy-less rest tonight.
Chapter Title: Where One Worries (7/?)
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Harry/Pansy
Prompt: #07 - Days
Word Count: 4161
Rating: PG/PG-13
Summary: He never planned to actually worry about her….
A/N: This story will not be a epic multiparter like I planned. Look for only 20 chapters total (if that many).
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“Harry. Harry, are you even listening to me?”
Harry looked up from the kitchen table to see Hermione sitting across from him, an agitated look on her face.
“Welcome back,” she said, closing up her notebook and sitting back in her chair. “Did you even hear a word I said?”
“Sorry,” he muttered with a frown, gently rubbing his forehead. “I guess I just kinda…”
“Zoned out?” she finished for him, and Harry responded with a slight nod. Her previously annoyed expression softened into one of concern. “You’ve been doing that quite a lot this weekend, Harry? Is everything okay?”
Harry nodded, a faint smile on his face. “I’m fine, Hermione. Promise. Just a few things on my mind is all.”
She stared at him with that same accusing look she gave him every time she caught him in a middle of a lie. “Harry…”
“Honest, Hermione, everything is fine.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Seamus entered the kitchen, Ron following in step behind him. Seamus patted Harry roughly on the back in greeting.
“Harry, we’re off to get some drinks,” he announced.
Hermione gave Ron an accusing look, but he shrugged it off with a sheepish smile. “Well, we could all use a good break.” He motioned towards Harry. “Especially him!”
Harry blinked, sitting up straighter in his chair. “No, I’m fine”
Seamus smirked, folding his arms over his chest. “Come on, Harry, even Neville is coming out with us.”
Ron nodded in agreement. “He makes a good point, Harry.”
Hermione stood with a roll of her eyes, holding her notebook tightly against her chest. “Well, you lot have fun,” she said as she started out of the kitchen. “And please try not to cause any trouble this time?” She gave Ron a pointed look.
“That was Dean and Seamus!” Ron countered to her look of disapproval.
Hermione simply nodded as she leaned in close to him, whispering, “See what’s up with Harry, would you?”
Ron nodded, and Hermione gave him a quick kiss on the lips before walking out of the kitchen, offering Seamus and Harry a small wave goodbye.
Seamus gave Harry’s shoulder a shove of encouragement. “Come on, Harry, do whatever it is you do to make yourself presentable so we can get the hell out of here for a while.”
Harry nodded, knowing there was no way he would be able to convince his friends to leave him be with his thoughts. “I’ll meet you guys in a second.”
Seamus and Ron both gave him a nod before leaving him alone in the kitchen. Harry watched after them with a frown. He knew each of them were only trying in their own way--Hermione with her questions of concern and his mates with their prospect of drinking--to get him out of his self-imposed rut, but he wasn’t in the mood tonight.
Not when he was this distracted.
Friday night had come and gone without a single word from Pansy. He had waited around for over an hour, pacing the small room and checking his watch for what seemed like every five minutes, before deciding to simply head home. Afterwards, he had waited patiently for an owl to explain the woman’s absence, but no such owl came.
Two nights had passed and still no word.
And though he would never admit it to anyone, he was actually a bit worried. If he had learned anything about Pansy over the past few weeks, it was that she was typically punctual, and if she wasn’t, she made sure to inform him of why she would be running behind schedule. So to have no word before Friday and then continue to have no word after their night had passed was unusual.
There was no way he would contact her. That would be opening them both up to danger if she were, in fact, okay, but he wished there was some way to get in contact with the woman. Just to know she was still alive.
With a sigh, Harry pushed himself from his seat to go join his friends.
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“The Cannons are gonna blow them out of the water next game,” Dean announced before taking a shot of firewhiskey.
Seamus scoffed into his own drink. “Have you even seen McWilliams playing this year? He’d have a better shot if he just played drunk!”
Harry shook his head, slightly amused, as he listened to his friends go on about the recent Quidditch matchups. At times, it was easy to forget that they were long from Hogwarts, that they were in the middle of a war that had already claimed the lives of some of their schoolmates. And though the moments were far and few between, where they were simply a group of young men sitting around having drinks as they discussed sports and women, Harry welcomed them.
“So, you okay mate?” Ron asked as Dean and Seamus pulled Neville into their debate on who would or wouldn’t make the next World Cup.
Harry looked up from his drink with a slight smirk. “How much did she pay you to ask?”
Ron laughed quietly before taking a sip from his bottle. “She’s just worried. You know how she gets.”
He nodded. “Believe me, I do, but it’s not necessary. I really am fine.”
“I’ve been trying to tell her that for the past week. She won’t hear of it, you know.” He took a drink. “Especially with you being AWOL every Friday night.”
“I’m not AWOL,” Harry replied with a slight roll of his eyes. “I’m meeting an informant, and it’s the only night she can get free.”
“She?” Ron asked after a beat, his eyebrows raised. “You never said your informant was a she.”
Harry smirked. “I didn’t realize it mattered.”
“Mate, you’re off every Friday night with a woman, and you fail to tell me this?”
“Potter has a woman?” Seamus chimed in, suddenly re-entering their conversation.
Harry turned to him quickly. “No!”
“Why didn’t we know you were seeing some girl?” Dean inquired with a grin.
“Cause I’m not,” Harry countered. “She’s an informant. It’s not like that.”
Ron snorted into his drink as Dean, Seamus, and even Neville shared a look. Harry rolled his eyes at his friends, taking a long drink from his own bottle as his friends began to bombard him with probing questions. Seamus was in the middle of asking him if his so-called informant was easy on the eyes when something just over Seamus’s shoulder caught Harry’s attention.
A woman entered the pub, draped in a dark green cloak against the cool night air. The hood of the cloak was pulled up to hide her face, but strands of dark hair fell out over the collar. She moved towards the bar, effectively turning her back to Harry.
“Mate, you with us?”
Seamus snapped his fingers in front of Harry’s face, forcing Harry to force his attention away from the woman.
“Huh?” he managed in response.
Dean shook his head. “No one is better than ignoring people than you, Harry.”
“I wasn’t ignoring….” Harry said, his gaze traveling once more past his friends and towards the bar where the woman now sat, the hood of her cloak down.
“Someone cute come in or something?” Seamus asked, turning in his chair to see what or who exactly Harry was staring at.
“I’ll be back.” Harry slid out of the booth and started towards the bar, leaving his friends to all look at each other in confusion.
He was going to kill Parkinson. She had some nerve, making him worry about her damn well-being when the entire time, she had been fine. Perfectly fine. And following him around into local pubs. How hard was it to send a bloody owl just so he could have known she wasn’t lying dead somewhere because of him?
Harry set his jaw as he tapped the brunette on the shoulder. When she turned to greet him, all the righteous anger he had been feeling, slipped away.
It wasn’t her.
“May I help you?” the woman asked, giving him a curious look.
Harry blinked. “Um, sorry, I thought you were someone else.”
Harry felt the undeniable urge to bolt as he saw the woman’s eyes widen. It was the same look reporters got when they realized they were one step away from cornering the infamous Boy Who Lived into an interview. “Wait! You’re Harry Potter!”
He unconsciously smoothed a hand down his bangs. “Um….”
“Can I buy you a drink?” she replied with a flirtatious smile.
“Um, perhaps some other time. Sorry about the, uh, tapping.” Before the woman could even get out another word, Harry made a beeline back to his table with his friends.
“What was that all about?” Ron asked with a raised eyebrow.
Harry shook his head. “Nothing. Just someone I thought I knew.”
“So, you never answered my question,” Seamus prodded.
“Which?”
“The one where I asked if this informant looked nicer than some of the other informants we’ve met over the years.”
Harry shrugged. “Well, she’s not a leper if that’s what you’re inquiring.”
“You’re avoiding the question,” Seamus smirked. He nodded towards the other men for agreement. “Tell me he’s avoiding.”
“You kinda are avoiding, Harry,” Neville said apologetically.
“I’m not--” He stopped with a sigh. “Whatever. I suppose she’s pretty….”
He shook his head, taking another drink. Never in a million years did he ever think he’d be sitting around with his friends discussing the attractiveness of Pansy Parkinson. The brunette he had mistaken for her was now joined by friends, and Harry could only imagine she was speaking excitedly about her encounter with the Boy Who Lived.
As the waitress returned to get a new drink order from their table, Harry’s friends forgot about their probing questions for the time being. And for that, Harry was more than glad.
---------
As Harry closed his flat door, locking it securely behind himself, he felt a small pang of guilt at leaving his friends so abruptly at the pub, but he just didn’t have it in him. Not tonight. Not when he was, annoyingly enough, still wondering about Parkinson’s welfare. Besides, he figured that they would all soon forget about his absence from the table as the drinks continued to flow.
He sighed as he shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the couch. Flopping back onto the cushions, he rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes. He had almost drifted to a much-needed slumber when someone knocked loudly on his front door.
With sleepy eyes, he glanced at his watch. Only fifteen minutes had passed since he had left his friends behind at the pub. Apparently, they hadn’t forgotten about him as quickly as he had believed they would.
Harry pushed himself from his spot on the couch and made his way to the door, expecting to see his friends on the other side, drinks in hand, as they offered to bring the drunkenness of the pub to him. But when he opened the door to greet his drunk mates, he found himself stunned to silence by who he laid eyes on instead.
Pansy Parkinson stood on his doorstep. Not only very much alive, but dressed in a way he had never seen her dressed during any of their other meetings.
She wore a smooth blue dress that clung to all her curves and trailed gently behind her onto the floor. Her long dark hair was down as it usually was when he saw her weekly, but tonight, it cascaded across her shoulders and down her back in softly curled waves.
She looked elegant. With just a touch of lethality.
“It’s rude to leave a woman standing in a hallway, you realize,” she smirked, and before he could actually invite her in, she walked by him without missing a beat.
Harry closed the door, still trying to wrap his mind around this new situation. “How did you find me?” he finally asked as he turned to her.
Pansy sat down on the arm of his couch. “I have my ways.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, suspicious. “Do I even want to know?”
Pansy’s lips curled into a small smile. “Don’t worry your little head about it, Potter. Only I know your location. No one else.”
“So, I see you’re not dead.”
“Last time I checked, no,” she replied with a quiet laugh. She smirked at him as she raised her eyebrows in curiosity. “Did the infamous Harry Potter actually worry about the welfare of a woman married to the enemy?”
“No,” he replied bluntly.
“Of course not,” she said, her smirk never wavering. “How silly of me to even think such a thing.” She slowly crossed her legs and tilted her head at him. “You’re staring yet again, Potter.”
Harry blinked, silently cursing himself for forming this horrible new habit when he hadn’t been expecting it. “Sorry, you’re just….” He motioned at her with his hand.
“Oh, don’t flatter yourself,” she replied, standing and smoothing a hand slowly down her hip. “Previous engagement tonight.”
Harry nodded, an annoyed tone to his voice when he spoke. “So, since you’re apparently alive and enjoying fancy dinners, I assume you have a good reason for not showing up Friday?”
“I apologize for that,” she said, and Harry mentally noted that he would probably never hear any variation of those words from her again. “It seems this weekend has been very busy for social gatherings. It happened at the last minute. I had no way of notifying you.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “I didn’t realize you Death Eaters were such social butterflies,” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Pansy smirked as she slowly walked around the couch, her finger trailing the back as she investigated his flat. “Sarcasm? Not becoming, Potter.”
“Why are you here? Now?” he asked, watching her cautiously as she picked up a framed picture of him, Hermione, and Ron. “I thought Fridays were the only day you could get away without suspicion.”
“Like I said, previous engagement tonight.” She set the picture back down in its spot as she continued her circle around his front room. “Death Eater dinner. Afterwards, there’s always a special meeting with the Dark Lord himself, and Blaise had to report in.”
Harry nodded slowly. “And what happens if your husband comes home to find you not there?”
Pansy turned back to him with a smirk. “I don’t plan to spend the night with you, Potter. I’m quite sure I’ll make it home before Blaise even knows.”
“So again I ask-- why are you here?”
“These dinners are always the same,” she said as she returned to her spot leaning against the arm of the couch. “Just a time for the Death Eaters to gather and pat themselves on the back for a job… not-so-well done. As hostess to these things, there’s really not much expected of me other than to be a cordial and attractive host.” She leaned forward a bit as she continued, “It never fails to amaze me how dense people can be. So dense that they spend so much time undressing me with their eyes that they don’t realize I hear every word said, even those I’m not meant to hear.”
Harry finally dropped his arms from his defensive stance, his attention now fully hers as he took two steps closer to her. “And you heard something tonight?”
Pansy smiled as she noted his change in demeanor. She stood, placing herself level with him. “Not just something, Potter. The something.” She paused for effect. “I know how to find your last little horcrux.”
Harry stared at her, not sure he was actually hearing what he was hearing. The last piece. The last horcrux. The last thing needed to end this whole mess.
As he opened his mouth to ask what exactly she knew, Harry found himself interrupted by more knocking. He quickly glanced back over his shoulder at the door before bringing his gaze back to Pansy’s. She held his stare, and for the first time he could recall, he saw a glimmer of panic in her eyes that he could only assume matched his own.
“No one else?” he asked in a hushed voice.
Pansy shook her head. “No,” she replied in the same quiet tone, “it’s impossible!”
Harry reached around her for his jacket that continued to rest on the couch. “My flat has wards,” he explained, pulling his wand from a pocket. “There’s no apparating or disapparating when inside the walls.”
“A bloody fortress, huh?” she asked, reaching for the hem of her dress.
Harry’s eyes followed her hands as Pansy lifted the bottom of her dress to mid-thigh, retrieving her wand that had been tucked inside a black garter belt wrapped around her thigh. He’d tease her about her hiding spot later, but right now, he had to get her out of his home alive.
The knocking came again, a bit harder, and they both turned to the sound. Harry stepped around her, placing himself between her and the door, before turning back to her. “Make yourself scarce.”
“What?!” she asked, dumbstruck. “Potter, if this is them, you’re going to need a second wand….”
“If this is them,” he countered, “then they’ll do worse things to you than to me.” He gave her a pointed look. “I’m sure you know the Death Eater stance on traitors.”
Pansy simply swallowed hard in response.
“Look, I realize this goes against all your stubborn upbringing, but go. Hide. Now.”
He almost wondered is she would continue to ignore his direct order, but then, she finally fixed him with a look before quickly making her way down his hallway. Harry waited for her silhouette to completely disappear into the darkness before going to the door. His hand gripped tightly to his wand, he peeked though the peephole to hopefully catch sight of his late night visitor. When he recognized the figure, he sighed in relief, slipping his wand into the back pocket of his jeans.
Harry opened the door only slightly to greet Ron, leaning against the open frame and one hand braced against the edge of the door.
“Hey, Harry, didn’t wake you, did I?” Ron asked.
Harry shook his head. “No, um…I was awake.”
“Look, mate, I know you said you were fine, but if I went back and Hermione knew I didn’t check in one last time? She’d have my hide.”
Harry couldn’t help but laugh. Hermione really would have his hide.
“So, you’re okay then?”
Harry nodded. “You can tell her I’m good. You just… caught me at a bad time.”
Ron raised an eyebrow. “Bad time?”
From somewhere down the hallway, Pansy’s voice carried to them. “Harry, love, are you coming or not? Getting mighty lonely back here.”
Ron blinked at him, a sly grin slowly spreading across his face. Harry could only clear his throat as he could feel the blush creeping up his neck.
“Bad time, huh?” Ron chuckled. “You realize you’re gonna have to share in the morning.”
“I realize,” Harry nodded. “Um, I better….” He motioned over his shoulder. “Night, Ron.”
Ron laughed, shaking his head. “Night.” With that, he started down the hallway, Harry watching him disappear around the corner at the end before finally shutting the door.
Sighing, he rested his forehead against the firm wood before finally starting down the darkened hallway to find Pansy. He found her in his bedroom at the end of the hall, sitting on the edge of his bed. She crossed her legs as she twirled her wand between her fingers.
“Thanks a lot for that,” Harry replied with a roll of his eyes. “He’s going to grill me non-stop tomorrow.”
Pansy laughed, shrugging. “So what? Just tell him you ended the night ravishing an exotically beautiful young woman.”
Harry rolled his eyes again. “I thought I told you to hide.”
“Figured when I heard Weasley’s voice, we were in the clear,” she replied with a shrug.
She eased up the hem of her dress again, and this time, Harry made sure to avert his eyes as she placed her wand back in it’s hiding space. Seeing more of her skin than he had planned to in one night would certainly do nothing for his newly formed staring habit.
“And if it hadn’t been Ron?” he asked, his gaze finally returning to her.
“Well, I would have disobeyed your order.”
“And gotten yourself killed,” he replied.
“Or saved your ass,” she countered, not missing a beat.
Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter anymore, alright? Just tell me about this horcrux deal.”
“There’s apparently a spell. It’s similar to a locater spell, actually.”
Harry scoffed as he walked over his dresser, leaning against it. “So you’re telling me all this time, all I needed was a simple locater spell?” he asked in disbelief. “Then how come it took so long for Voldemort to come up with this brilliant plan, and why hasn’t Hermione come across this in all her research?”
“I said it’s similar to a locator spell, Potter. This isn’t going to be in any books your little muggle bookworm reads.” She crossed her legs and rested her clasped hands in her lap, her debutant pose a complete contrast to the present tone on her voice. “This is old magic, very dark magic. It’s not like we’re looking for your missing keys here. We’re looking for a piece of one of the darkest soul’s ever created. To find that, you have to use the darkest magic.”
Harry ignored the chastising tone in her words. “So, we cast this spell, and we learn where the horcrux is?”
“Somewhat.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Somewhat?”
“It won’t give an exact location, but it will give a region. Within 50 miles.”
Harry nodded. “So, how do we get our hands on this spell?”
Pansy smiled. “My charm, of course.” She chuckled as he rolled his eyes again. “Blaise is in charge of collecting the necessary items for the spell. Therefore, I can easily get a copy for our use.”
“Will you have it by our next meeting?”
Pansy stood and slid a hand down her hip, smoothing a crease out of her dress. “Of course I will, Potter. Do you take me for a slacker?”
Harry scowled at her. “Well, seeing as keeping my location of secret from you has become a moot point, I suppose we could meet here next week. Cheaper and a bit less dangerous, in my opinion.”
Pansy nodded. “Then I’ll see you next week at our normal time.”
His scowl only deepened. “Don’t be late, Parkinson.”
“You were really worried when I didn’t show, weren’t you?” she smirked, a teasing tone on her voice.
Harry hesitated, his expression softening. “Just don’t be late, alright?” he repeated, those words the closest thing he would allow himself to a yes.
She nodded in understanding. “I’m nothing if not punctual.” She started towards the bedroom door. “Get some rest, Potter, you look like hell. I’ll see myself out.”
She disappeared through the doorway before he could even form a sarcastic response. He heard the front door click shut, and he fought the urge to go and make sure she actually apparated instead of risking walking away from his door. But, in the back of his mind, he knew there was no need. Pansy was trained for survival, and even she wouldn’t be thick enough to make herself an easier target by walking around by herself in Godric’s Hollow.
He sighed and walked over to his bed, collapsing back onto the spot where she had been sitting. Harry could already imagine the line of questioning coming from Ron in the morning, and he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. Little did his best mate know that Harry Potter’s wild private life was nothing more than trading insults with a former Slytherin.
Harry closed his eyes, shadows of Pansy haunting him. The hair that trailed down her back, just asking for someone to place their fingers in it and take purchase. The figure--not supermodel perfect but fitting of her-- that her stunning blue dress had only enhanced. The milky white skin he had caught a quick glimpse of as she reached for her wand….
Harry sat up quickly, nearly falling off the edge of his bed.
These were not thoughts he needed to be having. Especially not about Pansy Parkinson, who was still, by some twisted definition of the word, the enemy. And not only the enemy but married to the enemy as well.
With a shake of his head, Harry tried to rid himself of any thoughts on the brunette. Pushing himself from the bed, he began pulling off his clothes, hoping that a nice cold shower would help him get a good Pansy-less rest tonight.