A Gift for luvscharlie: Firewhisky and Cinnamon (Harry/Pansy, R)
Author: flipflop_diva
Recipient: luvscharlie
Title: Firewhisky and Cinnamon
Pairing: Harry Potter/Pansy Parkinson
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,062
Summary: The New Year’s Eve party at the Parkinson house was the last place Harry wanted to be. At least there was firewhisky. And Pansy in a tight dress.
Author's Notes: Thank you to A for the beta on super fast notice! And thank you to Crystal for hosting this awesome fest and being super patient with me, as always. And to luvscharlie, this started out as a drinking fic per your request, but then it got a bit sidetracked. I hope you enjoy it anyway!
[8 p.m. 31 December]
Pansy Parkinson opened the door with a sneer already on her face.
“Harry Potter,” she said, as though he were some sort of hideous creature delivered to her doorstep, instead of a co-worker coming to a not-mandatory-but-it-really-was New Year’s Eve party at her house.
“Pansy Parkinson,” he said back in the same tone, making sure he appraised her in a very calm, detached way. If he was honest, she looked better than he’d ever seen her look. The deep green dress she was wearing was showing off curves he never knew she had, and her hair was swept up in a way he wouldn’t have thought was possible had he not seen it.
But he wasn’t going to reveal any of that to her. Instead he grabbed Ron’s arm next to him, to stop him from ogling Lavender Brown who was coming up the walk behind them, and motioned to the party. “Are you going to let us come in? The Minister might not be pleased if you don’t.”
Pansy rolled her eyes, but she stepped to the side. “You wouldn’t be here if I had a choice,” she said as they passed her.
“Right back at ya,” Harry returned.
•••
[10 p.m. 31 December]
The firewhisky was flowing faster than water out of a spout. At least that was how Ron had described it to Harry before he had disappeared to go snog with Lavender Brown, and, well, he wasn’t wrong.
They hadn’t been here that long, and already Harry was losing count of how many refills he’d had, but he did have to admit, it made all the small talk with boring people he was already too tired of seeing during the weekdays just that much more bearable.
He was standing at the bar again now - the very long, very elegant bar that stretched almost the entire width of the Parkinson living room and was manned by ten bartenders in matching tuxes - watching half of his co-workers make fools of themselves. He’d already counted five spilled drinks, one person spewing in a plant in the corner of the room (he hated to be that person if Pansy discovered that), three broken plates and one woman with a sprained ankle from trying some dance moves that were never meant to be danced.
At least the only thing he had done so far that could be considered foolish was spend too much time letting his eyes stray over to one Pansy Parkinson. He didn’t even know why he was looking at her really. They barely talked. They weren’t enemies anymore, not really anyway, and he did have a grudging respect for her - she was, after all, one of the more competent people he worked with and she had yet to let him down on the job - but it wasn’t like they were mates.
Still, though …
A hand tapped his shoulder. He turned. Pansy was standing there, somehow getting behind him when he wasn’t looking, and scowling at him, but her scowl seemed a lot less harsh than normal.
“Are you going to move so other people can get a drink?” she wanted to know.
He held out his hand. “I can get you your drink if you want.”
Pansy eyed him suspiciously. “Why? Are you trying to poison it?”
“Just trying to be a good guest is all.”
“Hmmmm.” Pansy handed over her drink. “I almost like you when you’ve had a few.”
•••
[11:30 p.m. 31 December]
“Okay, I do like you when you’ve had a few,” Pansy whispered into his ear. Her arms were slung around his neck, her body pressed tight against his as they swayed together on the dance floor. “But I think it’s because you’re the only person here who is not a total prat or who steps on my feet when we dance.”
“Really?” Harry said. He twirled her around to better show off his skills. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that almost sounds like a compliment.”
“If you did say that, I would deny it to anyone who asked.”
“I’m sure you would.” He grinned down at her as she shook her head at him, a smirk instead of a scowl on her face for once. She shifted her body against him, dragging her fingers down his back as she did so, causing a shudder to go through him. There was a gleam in her eye, and he couldn’t really tell what she was thinking, but he almost could have sworn it was something much more than sarcasm.
Maybe even something like attraction.
It was probably the insane amount of firewhisky he had consumed, but he decided to just go with it.
He leaned down and snogged her. Her lips were as soft as he would have imagined, and she tasted a little like cinnamon.
“You taste like firewhisky,” she said when he pulled back.
He frowned. “I’m sorry.”
“Why? Did I say I minded?”
•••
[12 a.m. 31 December]
Somewhere in the distance he could hear explosions. People shouting. Maybe from happiness. Maybe from fear. He wasn’t really sure. He didn’t really care. The bedroom he was in seemed a long, long way from any party he had never wanted to be at anyway.
His fingers slipped down Pansy’s stomach and into her knickers as his tongue delved further into her mouth.
“I can’t believe this is how I’m ringing in the new year,” Pansy managed to grunt against his mouth, which was impressive considering how she had to stop every other word to breathe.
Harry let her feel his smirk against her lips, and pressed his thumb to her clit, causing her hips to buck against his hand. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Just you wait.”
•••
[8 a.m. 1 January]
“We are never telling anyone about this. Ever. You don’t even want to know the spells I’ll cast on you if you breathe a word of this.”
Harry picked his jacket up off the floor and bunched it up under his arm. He took a moment to let his eyes sweep over Pansy, clad only in a sheet, her skin still flush from their morning session.
“See you next party, Pansy.”
He headed toward the front door. Halfway down the walk, he heard it slam behind him. He thought it sounded like the start of something new.
Recipient: luvscharlie
Title: Firewhisky and Cinnamon
Pairing: Harry Potter/Pansy Parkinson
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,062
Summary: The New Year’s Eve party at the Parkinson house was the last place Harry wanted to be. At least there was firewhisky. And Pansy in a tight dress.
Author's Notes: Thank you to A for the beta on super fast notice! And thank you to Crystal for hosting this awesome fest and being super patient with me, as always. And to luvscharlie, this started out as a drinking fic per your request, but then it got a bit sidetracked. I hope you enjoy it anyway!
[8 p.m. 31 December]
Pansy Parkinson opened the door with a sneer already on her face.
“Harry Potter,” she said, as though he were some sort of hideous creature delivered to her doorstep, instead of a co-worker coming to a not-mandatory-but-it-really-was New Year’s Eve party at her house.
“Pansy Parkinson,” he said back in the same tone, making sure he appraised her in a very calm, detached way. If he was honest, she looked better than he’d ever seen her look. The deep green dress she was wearing was showing off curves he never knew she had, and her hair was swept up in a way he wouldn’t have thought was possible had he not seen it.
But he wasn’t going to reveal any of that to her. Instead he grabbed Ron’s arm next to him, to stop him from ogling Lavender Brown who was coming up the walk behind them, and motioned to the party. “Are you going to let us come in? The Minister might not be pleased if you don’t.”
Pansy rolled her eyes, but she stepped to the side. “You wouldn’t be here if I had a choice,” she said as they passed her.
“Right back at ya,” Harry returned.
•••
[10 p.m. 31 December]
The firewhisky was flowing faster than water out of a spout. At least that was how Ron had described it to Harry before he had disappeared to go snog with Lavender Brown, and, well, he wasn’t wrong.
They hadn’t been here that long, and already Harry was losing count of how many refills he’d had, but he did have to admit, it made all the small talk with boring people he was already too tired of seeing during the weekdays just that much more bearable.
He was standing at the bar again now - the very long, very elegant bar that stretched almost the entire width of the Parkinson living room and was manned by ten bartenders in matching tuxes - watching half of his co-workers make fools of themselves. He’d already counted five spilled drinks, one person spewing in a plant in the corner of the room (he hated to be that person if Pansy discovered that), three broken plates and one woman with a sprained ankle from trying some dance moves that were never meant to be danced.
At least the only thing he had done so far that could be considered foolish was spend too much time letting his eyes stray over to one Pansy Parkinson. He didn’t even know why he was looking at her really. They barely talked. They weren’t enemies anymore, not really anyway, and he did have a grudging respect for her - she was, after all, one of the more competent people he worked with and she had yet to let him down on the job - but it wasn’t like they were mates.
Still, though …
A hand tapped his shoulder. He turned. Pansy was standing there, somehow getting behind him when he wasn’t looking, and scowling at him, but her scowl seemed a lot less harsh than normal.
“Are you going to move so other people can get a drink?” she wanted to know.
He held out his hand. “I can get you your drink if you want.”
Pansy eyed him suspiciously. “Why? Are you trying to poison it?”
“Just trying to be a good guest is all.”
“Hmmmm.” Pansy handed over her drink. “I almost like you when you’ve had a few.”
•••
[11:30 p.m. 31 December]
“Okay, I do like you when you’ve had a few,” Pansy whispered into his ear. Her arms were slung around his neck, her body pressed tight against his as they swayed together on the dance floor. “But I think it’s because you’re the only person here who is not a total prat or who steps on my feet when we dance.”
“Really?” Harry said. He twirled her around to better show off his skills. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that almost sounds like a compliment.”
“If you did say that, I would deny it to anyone who asked.”
“I’m sure you would.” He grinned down at her as she shook her head at him, a smirk instead of a scowl on her face for once. She shifted her body against him, dragging her fingers down his back as she did so, causing a shudder to go through him. There was a gleam in her eye, and he couldn’t really tell what she was thinking, but he almost could have sworn it was something much more than sarcasm.
Maybe even something like attraction.
It was probably the insane amount of firewhisky he had consumed, but he decided to just go with it.
He leaned down and snogged her. Her lips were as soft as he would have imagined, and she tasted a little like cinnamon.
“You taste like firewhisky,” she said when he pulled back.
He frowned. “I’m sorry.”
“Why? Did I say I minded?”
•••
[12 a.m. 31 December]
Somewhere in the distance he could hear explosions. People shouting. Maybe from happiness. Maybe from fear. He wasn’t really sure. He didn’t really care. The bedroom he was in seemed a long, long way from any party he had never wanted to be at anyway.
His fingers slipped down Pansy’s stomach and into her knickers as his tongue delved further into her mouth.
“I can’t believe this is how I’m ringing in the new year,” Pansy managed to grunt against his mouth, which was impressive considering how she had to stop every other word to breathe.
Harry let her feel his smirk against her lips, and pressed his thumb to her clit, causing her hips to buck against his hand. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Just you wait.”
•••
[8 a.m. 1 January]
“We are never telling anyone about this. Ever. You don’t even want to know the spells I’ll cast on you if you breathe a word of this.”
Harry picked his jacket up off the floor and bunched it up under his arm. He took a moment to let his eyes sweep over Pansy, clad only in a sheet, her skin still flush from their morning session.
“See you next party, Pansy.”
He headed toward the front door. Halfway down the walk, he heard it slam behind him. He thought it sounded like the start of something new.