The thing about being Pansy Parkinson, you see, was that it was incredibly difficult to really find a lover, a friend, or even an acquaintance after that whole…calling-out-harry-potter-during-the-final-battle-out-of-fear thing. She sincerely regretted the entire debacle—she did!—no matter what others were saying behind her back, but it seemed that no matter what she did, no one would really associate with her anymore.
It was getting kind of lonely.
Of course, she had Draco and Blaise and Daphne and whatever other few rich, Pureblooded, Slytherins were around, but they had girl/boyfriends and lives and whatnot. It was hard to have to walk down Diagon Alley alone and be sneered at by the entirety of Wizarding London. She wasn't that bad! Not even the people directly involved in the war were still rude to her—with every post-war ball, gala, and function, they became less indifferent and a little closer to civil.
Alas, instead of really doing anything about her lack of a social life, Pansy sat on her posh butt, getting weekly manicures and spending her considerable fortune in upscale muggle restaurants and bars where people appreciated her designer shoes without wanting to spit on them. For someone who had been raised to believe muggles were scum, it was rather ironic that five years after the war, the only place she felt safe was around non-magical beings. It helped that she had also recently discovered the wonders of the department store. There was so much to buy, and so, so much time.
It was on one of these daylong expeditions to Harrods that Pansy ran into the most unexpected of people.
"Potter?"
"Parkinson?"
Pansy did not have any more words to contribute to this conversation. She was not even sure she wanted to turn this two-word exchange into a conversation. She instead looked at Potter blankly until he was inclined to say more things.
"Er, how are you doing then?" He finally said, after staring at her as though she were a unicorn that somehow had 18 horns.
"I'm fine. Doing great. Just, you know. Shopping." She held up an expensive dress she didn't really need to emphasize her point.
He seemed unfazed. "That's a nice dress."
She looked at him curiously, confused by his own lack of confusion. Shouldn't he be questioning what she was doing in muggle London? Assuming the absolute worst of her? Alerting the authorities that some crazy blood supremacist was out to kill muggles in their own sacred, capitalist territory? (It had happened once. Not fun.) "Well, thank you. What're you doing in Harrods?"
"I got bored. Needed a break from my life. Came to look at kitchen appliances for fun. Muggles don't really try to touch my forehead scar for good luck, you know?"
"That stuff still happens? It's been five years!" Pansy had a good recollection of the first few months after the war, where the Golden Trio spent an incredible amount of time in the papers, mostly in pictures where all three looked remarkably uncomfortable.
"I know. People have started to have babies now, and they all want me to bless them. It's completely bizarre."
Pansy laughed. "Priest Potter, then?"
"Dear Merlin. Never that!" he shuddered.
She continued to chuckle. It was in this moment that Pansy wondered…if her and Potter had met under normal circumstances, could they have perhaps been friends?
He seemed to have had the same thought. "So uh, do you want to…um. Come look at kitchen appliances with me?"
Pansy looked at him, amused. "Is that some strange euphemism for sex? Don't be ridiculous. How about we just get a drink instead?"
Potter smiled sheepishly. "Sounds great."
And off they went, Pansy discarding the over-priced dress onto some display and Harry leaving behind his kitchen electronics, into a future that would for certain involve many more trips to department stores.
A/N: That was my first attempt at Harry and Pansy! I love the pairing, so I hope I did them justice. Hopefully it was as fun and lighthearted as I wanted it to be, and hopefully it brought a smile to your face! :)