Fic: Toasts in a Booth
FIC POST
Title: Toasts in a Booth
Rating: PG
Author:
lylianf
Status: Complete
Summary: All Harry wants to do is eat is fettuccini alfredo in peace, but Pansy Parkinson was never one for that. She much preferred a lively and exciting Quidditch game to pass the time.
Additional Comments: Written 07-19-07. A look into their pointless, somewhat mundane lives. Ahh, normalcy. Usually that's reserved for Hufflepuffs, but this works too. Watch out for ordinary- and randomness!
Harry was sitting in a booth at a restaurant munching on his food when she decided to bother him. He was having fettuccini alfredo with both chicken and shrimp, a meal he would only allow himself to order while dining alone (his former girlfriend, Ginny Weasley, had once told him it was very feminine, and he never ate Italian with her ever again).
With an eagerness he reserved only for this specific meal, Harry reached for the tail of a shrimp and put it into his mouth, savoring the delicious taste. He was in the middle of chewing when Pansy Parkinson made her appearance.
“Do you mind if I sit here?” she had asked, and regardless of his answer, she took a seat.
Harry looked up from his meal to see Pansy remove her shades, her eyes never leaving the television above Harry’s head. He had purposely sat with his back to the telly so he wouldn’t have to watch the game. In reality, Harry loved watching Quidditch matches, but this one, the Montrose Magpies versus the Falmouth Falcons, did not particularly strike his interest. Draco Malfoy was playing for the Falmouth Falcons, and Harry was not about to watch him win for the fifth time this season. But of course Pansy Parkinson would be interested; so interested in fact, that she took no notice of who exactly she had sat with.
“Excuse me,” Harry started, while pushing his food away in distaste (not to mention embarrassment). Pansy took this as an invitation to eat.
“Oh! Don’t mind if I do,” she replied, following Harry’s pervious moments in grabbing a shrimp tail to devour. Her eyes flew straight back to the screen.
Harry opened his mouth to answer with an angry indignation when Pansy began, “Oh no, you dirty bastard. Get the hell off his tail!” and all the while not glancing in Harry’s direction at all.
Harry had jumped a few inches off his seat before realizing that Pansy was indeed not talking to him, but to the players cobbling one another on the field.
He grinded his teeth together before telling her, “Could you please watch the game somewhere else?” With Pansy screaming obscenities, Harry was surprised that he could understand the words himself.
“NO! What a foul mudpie! No, no, no. To the left! His left is open! Ah, shit,” Pansy groaned and took a seat back down. The keeper had obviously caught the quaffle. “Now they got the refs involved.”
She stuck her head into the comfort of her arms to mourn her loss. Harry though had no idea what had caused her to become so extremely upset, but he honestly knew that it was not his problem.
“Um…Pansy? Could you please just-“
Her head shot up. “How did you know my…?”
Harry could see her eyes adjusting and realization dawning on her facial expressions. “Oh. Oh. Potter.”
“Pansy.”
She immediately straightened up and said, while trying to charm him with her smile, “It’s the Harry Potter. I haven’t seen you since we graduated Hogwarts. Been years. How are you?”
“You ate my shrimp,” he said bluntly.
“So sorry about that. I didn’t know it was you.”
“…So you’d rather eat the food off a random stranger’s plate?”
Pansy smile sheepishly and shrugged.
The voice on the telly began to speak again, and Pansy’s attention left Harry.
“The refs have come to a decision. Haversackering foul on Tigas. The game is back in session!” the announcer declared.
Pansy was once again out of her seat and oblivious to her surroundings. (By now, Harry was beyond embarrassed.)
“GO TEAM MALFOY, GO!” Pansy yelled. “The Wronski Feint, do the Wronski Feint!”
Harry sighed, grabbed a fork and began his meal again.
“Ugh!” Pansy moaned in frustration. “You’re not the one that’s supposed to fall,” she said before gasping. All of her negativity disappeared. “YES! Yes! We won! Draco caught the snitch! Yes!”
“What’s new?” Harry grumbled into this chicken strip.
“We need to celebrate,” Pansy cried, grabbing on to Harry’s arm excitedly. “Waiter,” she called. “Bring over a bottle of your finest mead. We won!”
“I’m not going to-“ Harry started.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head over it, Potter,” said Pansy, patting his hair down as if he were an adored pet. “It’s on me. We won!”
Harry originally was going to say that he wasn’t going to celebrate Draco Malfoy’s winning, but hey, who would pass up free mead?
“You say that as if you didn’t expect them to win. The Falmouth Falcons have been first in league this entire season,” said Harry bitterly.
“Oh yes, but you see it goes much deeper than that. The Falcons haven’t beaten the Magpies for 23 years and,” she whispered conspiratorially, “don’t mention this to reporters, but Draco’s right hand is fractured.”
Harry was confused. “Why would he be stupid enough to play with a fractured hand? Something like that could be mended in less than five minutes.”
A devious smirk emerged from Pansy’s face. “Well, I sort of told him he couldn’t do it. And, of course, with Draco Malfoy’s enormous pride and huge ego, he couldn’t refuse proving himself. I even told him he wasn’t allowed to place a pain relieving charm on it. Just look at his face.”
Harry turned his back and, true enough, Draco Malfoy’s distorted face was covered with sweat and pain as his proud teammates raised Draco’s right hand up, the one which clutched the snitch.
Pansy laughed mirthfully. “Oh, he’s such an idiot! But now I do owe him a hefty dinner. All he could eat. Ah well.”
The waiter brought by a bottle of mead along with two glasses. He filled both to the brim even when Harry signaled him to stop; the young man was too busy smiling back at Pansy. The liquid spilled onto the table and down to Harry's pants as Harry glared at the unattentive server.
“Thank you so much,” said Pansy, smirking still.
“My pleasure. Can I do anything else for you?”
Pansy gave him a once over. “No, I think I’m perfectly fine as it is.”
When the waiter left, she watched his back for a while. Harry, nearing his breaking point, grabbed the glass and chugged. This caused Pansy to cry out, “No! Don’t drink yet. We need to toast.”
“To what?”
Pansy brought up her glass. “To Draco Malfoy.”
Harry scoffed.
“Alright then. To the Falmouth Falcons.”
Harry raised his eyebrows.
“…To our reunion?”
"You're serious?" His eyebrows rose further.
“How about…to Hogwarts?”
Harry mulled the idea over for a bit. “Fair enough.”
They clinked their glasses together in that one booth and drank to their heart’s content. It was too bad that Pansy kept refilling his glass. Harry didn’t even remember getting to his flat that night or finishing his fettuccini alfredo. All he saw when he woke up was a foot with toes polished pink. He didn’t ask, and she didn’t ask. They were thankfully both fully clothed. Harry got off the floor he had been sleeping on. She grabbed her belongings, blushing profusely, and left in a hurry. She had forgotten her coat, but she’d be back. He was sure of it. He closed and locked the door.
And that was the end of that. For now.