A Gift For kiertorata: Tick Tock, Granger, (Hermione/Pansy)
Author: maraudersaffair
Recipient: kiertorata
Title: Tick Tock, Granger
Pairing: Hermione/Pansy
Rating: General Audiences
Word Count/Art Medium: 800
Summary: Hermione discovers Pansy working at a Muggle coffee shop.
Author's Notes: Thank you for reading!
Hermione always told herself that she would never date Slytherins. It was just against her morals, her standards. How could she ever love someone who’d said Mudblood?
She was an idealistic woman who worked an idealistic job. She saved creatures. She fought for their rights. She spent ten hour days arguing with the Wizengamot and the Aurors and even her own colleagues. Elves didn’t like servitude; it was merely the only thing they understood.
Excellence! she said in office meetings. We are striving for excellence!
She didn’t have much time for friends. She didn’t have much time for romance. She was lonely and overworked and deeply obsessed with her job. She wasn’t living for herself. She lived for the creatures. She lived for other people.
Then one day she ran into Pansy Parkinson.
Parkinson was working the till of a Muggle coffee shop. Her hair was pulled up in a messy but fashionable bun and her eyes and mouth shimmered with makeup. Hermione blinked, not understanding.
“Are you going to order?” Parkinson sneered.
“Why are you here?”
“It’s my job.”
“But - you’re not Muggle.”
“Obviously.”
“But - you hate Muggles.”
Parkinson eyed her coworkers, the other people in the queue. “I thought you were supposed to be clever. You’re breaking about twenty secrecy laws right now.”
“You’re right. I’m just shocked.”
“Tick tock, Granger,” Parkinson said. “What do you want?”
“A gingerbread latte,” Hermione said quickly. “And a bun.”
Parkinson swiped her card. She smiled, big and fake. “It’s coming right up. Have a great day!”
Hermione walked over to the pickup window. She felt numb. She wanted to ask Parkinson so many questions. She stared. She couldn’t help it. Parkinson was beautiful.
When she got her latte and bun, she stepped in front of the next customer to speak to her.
“What are you doing?” Parkinson hissed.
“I want to talk to you,” Hermione said, rushed. “Not now. Later. Do you have a mobile?”
Parkinson’s eyes glittered. “Give me your number and I’ll contact you.”
“Do you promise?”
“I don’t owe you anything, Granger.”
“Hey, ladies, I’m late,” said the customer behind Hermione.
“Sorry,” said Hermione. “Just one more moment.”
Parkinson glanced worriedly at her coworkers, then she snatched a serviette and hastily wrote down a number. She thrust it at Hermione. “Here. Take it. I don’t promise anything.”
“Thank you. I’ll reach out to you after work.” She left the shop smiling.
*
The day inched by. Hermione kept glancing at her clock, waiting for the moment she could ring Parkinson. By lunchtime, she was a bundle of nerves and doubting ever asking for her number. Parkinson had made it perfectly clear: she wanted nothing to do with Hermione.
When it was time for Hermione to start heading home, she lingered in her office. She needed to ring Parkinson now. She’d lose her nerve if she waited until she got home.
The Ministry had slowly started to implement Muggle technology. Hermione had an old rotary telephone on her desk, powered by a fascinating combination of magic and tech. She dialed Parkinson’s number slowly, making sure she got all the digits correct.
“Hello? Is this Granger?” Parkinson said.
“Yes,” Hermione answered, her heart thudding. “I’m glad you picked up.”
“I don’t want to answer a million of your questions.”
“I just want to know why you’re working there.”
“I don’t have a damn choice.”
“Why not?”
“Only Muggles will employ me.”
Hermione frowned. “That’s not fair.”
“Yes, well, life isn’t fair.” Parkinson sounded amused.
“I want to have a drink with you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Why not?”
“I only have drinks with women I’m interested in.”
Hermione’s stomach squirmed. “You mean romantically?”
“Obviously.”
Hermione held her breath. “You know, I’m not with Ron Weasley anymore.”
“Good.” Parkinson snorted.
“We broke up when . . . when I realized I was attracted to women.”
Parkinson made a noise that sounded like a gasp.
“Hello?” Hermione said anxiously. “Are you still there?”
“Why did you tell me that?” Parkinson said softly.
“Because I want to have a drink with you.”
“But -”
“Unless you don’t think I’m attractive?”
“Merlin.”
“What?”
“You’re asking me on a date? You have no idea who I’ve become.”
“I want to find out who you’ve become.”
Parkinson was silent for a long moment. “Okay.”
“Really?” Hermione let out her breath. She had no idea where her bravery had come from, but she was tired of living for other people. She was tired of hiding.
“Tomorrow. Let’s have that drink tomorrow.”
“Just tell me when and where. I’ll be there.”
“And, Granger?”
“Yes?”
“You better be a good kisser.” There was a smile in Parkinson’s voice.
Recipient: kiertorata
Title: Tick Tock, Granger
Pairing: Hermione/Pansy
Rating: General Audiences
Word Count/Art Medium: 800
Summary: Hermione discovers Pansy working at a Muggle coffee shop.
Author's Notes: Thank you for reading!
Hermione always told herself that she would never date Slytherins. It was just against her morals, her standards. How could she ever love someone who’d said Mudblood?
She was an idealistic woman who worked an idealistic job. She saved creatures. She fought for their rights. She spent ten hour days arguing with the Wizengamot and the Aurors and even her own colleagues. Elves didn’t like servitude; it was merely the only thing they understood.
Excellence! she said in office meetings. We are striving for excellence!
She didn’t have much time for friends. She didn’t have much time for romance. She was lonely and overworked and deeply obsessed with her job. She wasn’t living for herself. She lived for the creatures. She lived for other people.
Then one day she ran into Pansy Parkinson.
Parkinson was working the till of a Muggle coffee shop. Her hair was pulled up in a messy but fashionable bun and her eyes and mouth shimmered with makeup. Hermione blinked, not understanding.
“Are you going to order?” Parkinson sneered.
“Why are you here?”
“It’s my job.”
“But - you’re not Muggle.”
“Obviously.”
“But - you hate Muggles.”
Parkinson eyed her coworkers, the other people in the queue. “I thought you were supposed to be clever. You’re breaking about twenty secrecy laws right now.”
“You’re right. I’m just shocked.”
“Tick tock, Granger,” Parkinson said. “What do you want?”
“A gingerbread latte,” Hermione said quickly. “And a bun.”
Parkinson swiped her card. She smiled, big and fake. “It’s coming right up. Have a great day!”
Hermione walked over to the pickup window. She felt numb. She wanted to ask Parkinson so many questions. She stared. She couldn’t help it. Parkinson was beautiful.
When she got her latte and bun, she stepped in front of the next customer to speak to her.
“What are you doing?” Parkinson hissed.
“I want to talk to you,” Hermione said, rushed. “Not now. Later. Do you have a mobile?”
Parkinson’s eyes glittered. “Give me your number and I’ll contact you.”
“Do you promise?”
“I don’t owe you anything, Granger.”
“Hey, ladies, I’m late,” said the customer behind Hermione.
“Sorry,” said Hermione. “Just one more moment.”
Parkinson glanced worriedly at her coworkers, then she snatched a serviette and hastily wrote down a number. She thrust it at Hermione. “Here. Take it. I don’t promise anything.”
“Thank you. I’ll reach out to you after work.” She left the shop smiling.
*
The day inched by. Hermione kept glancing at her clock, waiting for the moment she could ring Parkinson. By lunchtime, she was a bundle of nerves and doubting ever asking for her number. Parkinson had made it perfectly clear: she wanted nothing to do with Hermione.
When it was time for Hermione to start heading home, she lingered in her office. She needed to ring Parkinson now. She’d lose her nerve if she waited until she got home.
The Ministry had slowly started to implement Muggle technology. Hermione had an old rotary telephone on her desk, powered by a fascinating combination of magic and tech. She dialed Parkinson’s number slowly, making sure she got all the digits correct.
“Hello? Is this Granger?” Parkinson said.
“Yes,” Hermione answered, her heart thudding. “I’m glad you picked up.”
“I don’t want to answer a million of your questions.”
“I just want to know why you’re working there.”
“I don’t have a damn choice.”
“Why not?”
“Only Muggles will employ me.”
Hermione frowned. “That’s not fair.”
“Yes, well, life isn’t fair.” Parkinson sounded amused.
“I want to have a drink with you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Why not?”
“I only have drinks with women I’m interested in.”
Hermione’s stomach squirmed. “You mean romantically?”
“Obviously.”
Hermione held her breath. “You know, I’m not with Ron Weasley anymore.”
“Good.” Parkinson snorted.
“We broke up when . . . when I realized I was attracted to women.”
Parkinson made a noise that sounded like a gasp.
“Hello?” Hermione said anxiously. “Are you still there?”
“Why did you tell me that?” Parkinson said softly.
“Because I want to have a drink with you.”
“But -”
“Unless you don’t think I’m attractive?”
“Merlin.”
“What?”
“You’re asking me on a date? You have no idea who I’ve become.”
“I want to find out who you’ve become.”
Parkinson was silent for a long moment. “Okay.”
“Really?” Hermione let out her breath. She had no idea where her bravery had come from, but she was tired of living for other people. She was tired of hiding.
“Tomorrow. Let’s have that drink tomorrow.”
“Just tell me when and where. I’ll be there.”
“And, Granger?”
“Yes?”
“You better be a good kisser.” There was a smile in Parkinson’s voice.