Work Text:
May 28, 1998
Harry was tired and lonely. The war had ended just over three weeks ago, and he hadn’t been able to get a reprieve from the requests for photos and interviews and signatures and dates . Hermione had tried to help at first, but then the same attention was turned towards her way. Ron was, understandably, grieving with his family over the loss of Fred, and he hadn’t left the Burrow since that fateful day. So there Harry sat, for the third day in a row, at a bar in a hotel in muggle London on a street whose name he couldn’t figure out how to pronounce.
“Fancy seeing you, Potter. You here for the same reason as me?” Harry turned to his left and tried to hide his confusion at Pansy Parkinson voluntarily sitting on the barstool next to him. He apparently hadn’t done a good job of masking his emotions because she continued. “Hiding? From your adoring fans?”
Harry let out a small snort. “Are you saying you have ‘adoring fans’, Parkinson?” Pansy scoffed and thanked the bartender when he placed two shots of tequila and a glass of water in front of her. Harry was impressed with how well she threw back the first one, and almost missed her response to his question.
“Not my fans, Potter. Your fans. Unsurprisingly, people don’t take kindly to me after I offered you to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.” She drank the second shot before turning to face him with a much more serious look than he expected. “I’m sorry about that, by the way. I want you to know that I did not say that because I wanted you dead so much as I wanted to live. I understand if you don’t believe me, but I don’t believe in all of the Pureblood propaganda that was thrown around. I haven’t for a while. So, I’m sorry. For real. Not just because of the looks and words that are thrown at me. Those aren’t fun but I would apologize even if I was being left alone. Because I am. Sorry, that is. I’m going to stop talking.” She brought the water up to her lips and took a large sip, missing the way Harry’s lips unconsciously twitched into a small smile.
Not wanting to think about how her rambling was quite cute, Harry flagged down the bartender and requested two more shots of tequila before turning to Pansy and saying, “I believe you. I don’t know why, but I do.” He passed the second shot to her and, before he could lick the salt he just sprinkled off the back of his hand, Pansy swooped in and did it herself. She met his eyes when she bit his lime after throwing back the shot, and Harry hated that his trousers started to feel a bit tighter. Pansy gave him a smug look but that quickly dropped when he took her hand and mimicked her actions. Harry’s chest puffed a small amount when he noticed her rub her thighs together.
Nervously, Pansy said, “Do you…” before stopping and taking a breath to collect herself. “Do you want to get out of here? We could go out back for a smoke?”
Harry looked at her as though she was a puzzle waiting to be solved. Cocking his head to the left he said, “I don’t smoke fags.”
“I don’t either,” Pansy said as she pulled a spiff out of her bra. With a quick wink and seductive smile, she walked off, and Harry didn’t think twice before following her.
__________________
Harry couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as he looked at Pansy. She sat cross-legged on the bed in the hotel room they ended up using, wearing only his t-shirt and a drunken smile. He knew she was saying something about visiting her cousin Austin in the states, wanting to escape the hate and terrible treatment she was receiving, but Harry wasn’t paying much attention. All he could focus on was the way her usually perfect black hair was tousled from his grip, and her face was washed clean of the makeup she usually wore. He had compared her likeness to that of a pug’s back in Hogwarts, but now he felt that couldn’t be further from the truth. The light from the lampposts poured through the open curtains, highlighting her perfectly white teeth, beautiful smile, and the light scattering of freckles on her cheeks, and all Harry wanted to do was learn everything he could about the beauty in front of him.
Gripping her hips, Harry pulled her off the bed and into a drunken dance in front of the telly. The two spun around and smiled, throwing their heads back with laughter when Harry almost fell while attempting a dip. Eventually, their moves turned into a slow sway with Pansy’s arms wrapped around Harry’s neck and legs around his waist. Harry’s hands held tight to her arse, holding Pansy up and loving how her small frame fit perfectly against his larger one.
“Do you…” Harry trailed off, unsure how to verbalize the thoughts running through his mind. He wanted her, wanted her to want him. Wanted to stay with her and get away from the craziness his life had become. Pansy gave his lips a quick peck before resting her forehead against his, her eyes prompting him to continue. Taking a deep breath, Harry said, “Do you think anyone would miss us? If we were to run away right now, just the two of us?”
Pansy’s eyes watered the slightest bit but she refused to let the tears fall. ‘How does this man have so much control over me?’ she thought, before giving her head a slight shake. “This isn’t a fairytale, Harry. Our story won’t- can’t end up that way.” After a moment she broke their eye contact and laid her head on his shoulder and murmured “I wish it could, but there are no stories where the prince and the villain live happily ever after.”
“Then we will have to make tonight count.”
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When Harry woke up the next morning, his first sight was Pansy pulling his t-shirt back on over a pair of leggings she must have transfigured. Voice scratchy from sleep, Harry nervously asked, “Were you planning on sneaking out?”
Pansy startled before moving back over to the bed and curling against his side. “No, I was planning on saying goodbye.” Harry grabbed her chin and tilted it up before slanting his lips against hers. The kiss was softer than any of the others they shared the night before, and when he went to pull away she followed him, moaning as their kiss intensified. When they finally separated a handful of minutes later, Pansy leaned up to kiss Harry’s lightning bolt scar before getting out of bed.
“Pans-”
His words were cut off with another quick kiss. Pansy gave him a small, sad smile and said, “This was a night I don’t think I’ll ever forget,” before turning and walking out the door.
Harry watched her go, unsure of what he was supposed to do now. Even though they wore their hearts on their sleeves the night before, he knew it - the two of them together - wasn’t a door that could be opened again. When he finally got up, Harry grabbed his remaining clothes off the floor and tried not to think of Pansy’s insistent hands being the reason they were there.
A deep breath and a shirt transfigured from a pillowcase later, Harry moved to the counter to grab the hotel room keys he placed there for checkout. Once in his hand, he realized there was only one, a folded-up piece of paper in place of the second. After reading the note, he cast a quick geminio on his own key and smiled to himself, hopeful that maybe this wouldn’t be the last time.
Harry,
It makes me think of you, so I kept the key.
❤Pans