WISHLISTS: Unexpected Gifts (Pansy/Seamus)
Author: lauryne78
Recipient: purelush
Title: Unexpected Gifts
Pairing: Pansy/Seamus
Request: snowglobe
Rating: R (for a few references and partial nudity of an, um, representational image...yep, let's go with that).
Word Count: 1,200
Summary: Pansy gets a gift that's even more surprising than she first thought.
Author's Notes: Ooh boy, apparently the inspiration bug for this pairing has bitten me big time. This can be seen as a *loose* sequel to "Breaking the Rules" (written as a gift fic earlier in this Wishlist event)...but also can stand on its own. Hope you all enjoy!!
Pansy stared at the box.
There was nothing overtly unusual about it - it was simply a smallish box wrapped in dark green paper and tied with a shiny silver bow. It was rather pretty, actually, and whoever had wrapped it certainly seemed to know Pansy’s taste quite well.
No, the box itself was not the problem. The problem was how this particular box came to be sitting in the center of her kitchen table at 9:30 on a Saturday morning when it had most definitely not been there when she’d gone to bed around midnight on Friday.
Pansy was a cautious - alright, suspicious - person both by nature and upbringing, and the war and its aftermath had left her particularly skittish. Plus, she liked her privacy. So she had designed a very tricky, very nasty set of wards for her flat. Someone could only get in if they knew the specific password and the complicated wand movement that went with it. The wand movement was very easy to screw up, and if the “guest” didn’t get the right combination of words, gestures, speed, inflection, and force by their third try, the wards would go into lockdown.
Lockdown involved a loud caterwauling charm and the automatic triggering of a particularly painful stinging hex that was guaranteed to find its target’s most sensitive bits. Pansy had created that hex herself, and was extremely proud of it.
She tried glaring at the mysterious box, but it did no good. It just remained there on her kitchen table.
But how had it gotten there?!
Her mother and sister had been at a spa in Geneva all week - Pansy’d been called for a work emergency or she would have been with them.
Not that I’m bitter or anything…
Father was at a business conference, and besides, this wasn’t his style. He usually just gave her cash and let her buy her own gifts.
Her dear, daft, former-Death Eater of a brother was still serving his sentence in Azkaban last she’d checked.
Draco hadn’t been by since she’d changed the flat’s wards eight months ago - he’d been the first, and most satisfying, recipient of the heightened security measures.
She slipped her wand from the pocket of her dressing gown and ran a few basic revealing spells over the small box. The spells didn’t turn up anything out of the ordinary, but Pansy still wasn’t convinced. She prodded the package gently with the tip of her wand, poised to duck underneath the table should it explode, or burst into song, or something equally horrifying.
But nothing happened.
The box simply sat there, taunting her with how very normal it was.
Other than its inexplicable presence in her heavily-warded flat, apparently there was absolutely nothing remarkable about it.
She racked her brains…of the few other friends she’d given the password to, none of them seemed likely to break into her home in the middle of the night and leave her unexpected gifts.
With a resigned sigh, Pansy set her wand on the table and pulled the package towards her. There was nothing for it but to open it, and see if that helped her figure out who had left it and how.
And it is rather pretty-looking…
She carefully removed the bow and peeled back the edges of the dark green paper. A small, white cardboard box was inside, and when Pansy lifted the lid, she became more confused than ever.
Reaching into the box she removed what looked like a small crystal ball. The object was attached to an equally small pedestal, and as Pansy lifted it free of the cotton batting that had protected it, she saw that it was no crystal ball.
Apparently, some freakish gift-giving stealth bandit had broken her wards to leave her…
…a Muggle snowglobe?!
The little sphere was filled with a viscous liquid, in which hundreds of miniature snowflakes and shimmering stars were suspended. Pansy turned the globe upside down and then righted it quickly, watching the snow and stars spin wildly over the tiny landscape the globe contained.
A vague sense of understanding tickled Pansy’s brain, but she couldn’t quite place why.
The globe held a beautiful stone house with a thatched roof nestled in the shelter of a towering hill. As Pansy looked at the globe more closely, it became apparent that while Muggle in origin, someone had charmed it quite cleverly.
Lights flickered in various windows of the house and small animals could be seen frolicking in the trees near the base of the hill.
Again, she felt some vague memory unsuccessfully try to surface.
Astounded by the spellwork involved, Pansy almost missed the opening of the house’s door, and the emergence of a small figure. When her eyes did latch on to the figure, all at once Pansy knew who had sent her the gift.
She set the snowglobe down on the table with a thump and growled in frustration as a miniature version of Seamus Finnigan waved up at her from the house’s doorway, before proceeding to give her a saucy wink and doing a suggestive little dance.
When the mini-Finnigan began to remove articles of his clothing, however, Pansy buried her face in her hands and her growls escalated to a roar.
Moments later, when she dared look at the snowglobe again, all that was left of mini-Finnigan were his clothes, and the house’s door was mercifully shut. She heaved a sigh of relief and moved to put the globe back in its box. Apparently, the charm was activated when the snow was swirled about, but thankfully it seemed to have a finite life.
As she replaced the globe her hand lingered on its smooth, cool surface and she noticed a small scrap of parchment nearly hidden against the side of the box.
“Really, what excuse can the arse have for that…that…travesty of a gift? It’s repellent!”
But his bum did look awfully good…even in miniature….
With a huff at her own traitorous thoughts, she snatched the parchment from the box with her free hand and began reading.
Lass-
Part of me is sorry for sneakin’ into your flat, but I have to admit, most of me isn’t. Thanks for tellin’ me how to get in last time we ended up at your place, and for tellin’ me how fast and how hard to do it. I wouldn’t have wanted to get stung. (And thanks for the help with the wards too).
I have to say…I’m sick of this though…
Seven nights of shaggin’ - no matter how mind-blowin’ they might’ve been - don’t mean anything if you won’t admit to this thing in the daylight.
So.
By the time you finish readin’ this note, that Portkey’ll have activated, and in about three seconds I’ll be seein’ you at a small cottage in Ireland, and we can work out the terms of this…whatever it is we’ve got goin’ on.
Yours,
-Shay
p.s. I may or may not be naked when you get here.
As she stared in mounting horror, the snowglobe began to glow trademark Portkey blue, and Pansy felt the familiar tugging behind her navel.
She winked out of view screaming and cursing the bloody Irishman’s name.
~*Fin*~
Recipient: purelush
Title: Unexpected Gifts
Pairing: Pansy/Seamus
Request: snowglobe
Rating: R (for a few references and partial nudity of an, um, representational image...yep, let's go with that).
Word Count: 1,200
Summary: Pansy gets a gift that's even more surprising than she first thought.
Author's Notes: Ooh boy, apparently the inspiration bug for this pairing has bitten me big time. This can be seen as a *loose* sequel to "Breaking the Rules" (written as a gift fic earlier in this Wishlist event)...but also can stand on its own. Hope you all enjoy!!
Pansy stared at the box.
There was nothing overtly unusual about it - it was simply a smallish box wrapped in dark green paper and tied with a shiny silver bow. It was rather pretty, actually, and whoever had wrapped it certainly seemed to know Pansy’s taste quite well.
No, the box itself was not the problem. The problem was how this particular box came to be sitting in the center of her kitchen table at 9:30 on a Saturday morning when it had most definitely not been there when she’d gone to bed around midnight on Friday.
Pansy was a cautious - alright, suspicious - person both by nature and upbringing, and the war and its aftermath had left her particularly skittish. Plus, she liked her privacy. So she had designed a very tricky, very nasty set of wards for her flat. Someone could only get in if they knew the specific password and the complicated wand movement that went with it. The wand movement was very easy to screw up, and if the “guest” didn’t get the right combination of words, gestures, speed, inflection, and force by their third try, the wards would go into lockdown.
Lockdown involved a loud caterwauling charm and the automatic triggering of a particularly painful stinging hex that was guaranteed to find its target’s most sensitive bits. Pansy had created that hex herself, and was extremely proud of it.
She tried glaring at the mysterious box, but it did no good. It just remained there on her kitchen table.
But how had it gotten there?!
Her mother and sister had been at a spa in Geneva all week - Pansy’d been called for a work emergency or she would have been with them.
Not that I’m bitter or anything…
Father was at a business conference, and besides, this wasn’t his style. He usually just gave her cash and let her buy her own gifts.
Her dear, daft, former-Death Eater of a brother was still serving his sentence in Azkaban last she’d checked.
Draco hadn’t been by since she’d changed the flat’s wards eight months ago - he’d been the first, and most satisfying, recipient of the heightened security measures.
She slipped her wand from the pocket of her dressing gown and ran a few basic revealing spells over the small box. The spells didn’t turn up anything out of the ordinary, but Pansy still wasn’t convinced. She prodded the package gently with the tip of her wand, poised to duck underneath the table should it explode, or burst into song, or something equally horrifying.
But nothing happened.
The box simply sat there, taunting her with how very normal it was.
Other than its inexplicable presence in her heavily-warded flat, apparently there was absolutely nothing remarkable about it.
She racked her brains…of the few other friends she’d given the password to, none of them seemed likely to break into her home in the middle of the night and leave her unexpected gifts.
With a resigned sigh, Pansy set her wand on the table and pulled the package towards her. There was nothing for it but to open it, and see if that helped her figure out who had left it and how.
And it is rather pretty-looking…
She carefully removed the bow and peeled back the edges of the dark green paper. A small, white cardboard box was inside, and when Pansy lifted the lid, she became more confused than ever.
Reaching into the box she removed what looked like a small crystal ball. The object was attached to an equally small pedestal, and as Pansy lifted it free of the cotton batting that had protected it, she saw that it was no crystal ball.
Apparently, some freakish gift-giving stealth bandit had broken her wards to leave her…
…a Muggle snowglobe?!
The little sphere was filled with a viscous liquid, in which hundreds of miniature snowflakes and shimmering stars were suspended. Pansy turned the globe upside down and then righted it quickly, watching the snow and stars spin wildly over the tiny landscape the globe contained.
A vague sense of understanding tickled Pansy’s brain, but she couldn’t quite place why.
The globe held a beautiful stone house with a thatched roof nestled in the shelter of a towering hill. As Pansy looked at the globe more closely, it became apparent that while Muggle in origin, someone had charmed it quite cleverly.
Lights flickered in various windows of the house and small animals could be seen frolicking in the trees near the base of the hill.
Again, she felt some vague memory unsuccessfully try to surface.
Astounded by the spellwork involved, Pansy almost missed the opening of the house’s door, and the emergence of a small figure. When her eyes did latch on to the figure, all at once Pansy knew who had sent her the gift.
She set the snowglobe down on the table with a thump and growled in frustration as a miniature version of Seamus Finnigan waved up at her from the house’s doorway, before proceeding to give her a saucy wink and doing a suggestive little dance.
When the mini-Finnigan began to remove articles of his clothing, however, Pansy buried her face in her hands and her growls escalated to a roar.
Moments later, when she dared look at the snowglobe again, all that was left of mini-Finnigan were his clothes, and the house’s door was mercifully shut. She heaved a sigh of relief and moved to put the globe back in its box. Apparently, the charm was activated when the snow was swirled about, but thankfully it seemed to have a finite life.
As she replaced the globe her hand lingered on its smooth, cool surface and she noticed a small scrap of parchment nearly hidden against the side of the box.
“Really, what excuse can the arse have for that…that…travesty of a gift? It’s repellent!”
But his bum did look awfully good…even in miniature….
With a huff at her own traitorous thoughts, she snatched the parchment from the box with her free hand and began reading.
Lass-
Part of me is sorry for sneakin’ into your flat, but I have to admit, most of me isn’t. Thanks for tellin’ me how to get in last time we ended up at your place, and for tellin’ me how fast and how hard to do it. I wouldn’t have wanted to get stung. (And thanks for the help with the wards too).
I have to say…I’m sick of this though…
Seven nights of shaggin’ - no matter how mind-blowin’ they might’ve been - don’t mean anything if you won’t admit to this thing in the daylight.
So.
By the time you finish readin’ this note, that Portkey’ll have activated, and in about three seconds I’ll be seein’ you at a small cottage in Ireland, and we can work out the terms of this…whatever it is we’ve got goin’ on.
Yours,
-Shay
p.s. I may or may not be naked when you get here.
As she stared in mounting horror, the snowglobe began to glow trademark Portkey blue, and Pansy felt the familiar tugging behind her navel.
She winked out of view screaming and cursing the bloody Irishman’s name.
~*Fin*~