A/N: this One-shot is my response to the challenge from my FF soul sister elle311. She gave me 12 sentences to use and a poem as a prompt. I hope I made you proud, sister!

xoxo

"Oh for Merlin's sake what do you have to do to get a freaking Auror out here!" Pansy Parkinson yelled, flustered and frustrated.

After the war, a law was enforced to prevent street dueling, and now whenever it was a confrontation and wands were out or anything resembling a spark was shot in public, the parties involved needed to wait for an Auror to come and check the spells produced and make sure no arrests were necessary before the witches or wizards could go on their merry way. It was dull and time consuming, but effective. Usually, knowing that it would take a while for the Aurors to show up because they had more important things to do was a deterrent of confrontations.

Today, Pansy Parkinson was having a lousy day. Her head seamstress at her fashion design studio had run away with her portfolio and some of the most expensive materials. She had already filed charges at the Auror office, which was a humiliating experience. The Auror assigned to that kind of paperwork was nonother than the Chosen One himself. He had probably fucked up badly in some case -he was known for jumping head first into dangerous situations- so him being behind a desk was probably some sort of punishment. And to hear Pansy whine about some stolen fabrics had made him rolled his eyes so many times they started to look like time turners. Never mind that she presented evidence of the high cost of the stolen materials, to him it was nothing but rags. After that, she stopped for coffee to go but the idiot barista did not secure the cap on her cup, so she spilled scorching hot coffee on her tits. Then she went to try and buy some of the materials again, including some rare shells that unfortunately were only sold by a cranky old witch with a smelly little shop at the edge of Knockturn Alley. She displayed the shells outside the shop in old carts and Pansy was perusing through them when she reached inside her purse for a sample she brought and the old witch yelled

"Thieve!" and suddenly shot Pansy a hex. A small crowd gathered around the subsequent screaming match and now they were both stuck until the Auror on call showed up.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" said Pansy when she saw The Boy Who Lived apparate next to the store.

Harry saw her and huffed but then a malicious grin grew on his face. She had been a nightmare in his office, treating him like he was an idiot for not knowing anything about Haute Couture and overpriced rags. Now, she was served to him on a silver platter to mess with her.

"Good afternoon Mrs. Potts, is everything alright here?" he said, blatantly ignoring Pansy and walking to stand in front of the cranky old witch.

"Oh, thank Merlin you are here, Auror Potter," the old witch said, almost batting her eyelashes. The Auror office was fed with her habit of hexing her clients, and Harry was the only one who would never lose his patience with her. "This thief was trying to steal some of my precious shells."

"Oh, come on, you fucking know who I am, Potts, I'm your best client. I bring thousands of galleons to this Salazar forsaken place every fucking month. You can't seriously think I was going to steal some fucking shells."

Harry turned around, lifting an eyebrow

"Language, Miss Parkinson. Please show some respect for your elders."

The old witch grinned like she just won the lottery. Pansy lost it

"Oh, fuck you, Potter!" she said, shoving her hand on his chest quite hard.

"That's assault of an officer, Miss Parkinson. Add that to the accusation of thievery, I have to take you in now."

Mrs. Potts looked so gleeful she may have a stroke on the spot. Harry turned to her and said

"Mrs. Potts, I need to check your wand for recent spells. It's protocol. Then I will take care of your…little problem," he said, giving Pansy a glance over his shoulder.

Pansy rubbed her temples with her fingers muttering a litany of obscenities under her breath while the Chosen One took his sweet time checking the old hag's wand and writing her a warning while the ancient crook actually flirted with him.

"Well, Mrs. Potts, as always, is great seeing you," he said with a big smile. "Now if you excuse me, I have to process this case," he said grabbing Pansy's elbow and apparating them away. The old witch sigh like a schoolgirl in love when the young Auror left.

"What is this place?" said Pansy, looking horrified around the little room where they had popped in. There were no windows, only a door, a table and one chair on each side of it.

"Interrogation room at Auror's headquarters," said Harry, taking a seat and looking nonchalant.

"You can't be serious. This can't be legal. You cannot just lock me in here."

He smirked

"Actually, I can. I have the prerogative to bring any suspected violent person directly in here, and since the charge is assaulting an Auror on top of thievery, it is by now registered at the front desk. Maybe someone will come and check in on me but probably not before an hour or so."

She sat, looking disconcerted. She kept shaking her head in disbelief. She tried to talk several times but she couldn't come up with a coherent sentence. What the heck was going on here? How did she end up here? Then she looked at him and comprehension dawn on her.

"This is personal. This is payback. For all those years ago. The night of the battle. This is about what I said that night."

He stiffened, raising his hands in horror

"What? No! no, no, no, this has nothing to do with… no, no, no!"

"What is it, then?"

He thought for a minute. Then he grabbed his head with his hands

"Oh, fuck. I'm going to be behind a desk for a month," he said, realizing what he had done.

Pansy lifted a perfect eyebrow and gave him a questioning gesture.

"Alright, I did want payback, but not for that, that was years ago and I never blamed you for panicking that night. I…I wanted payback for the grief you gave me today. You know, when you called me an ignorant buffoon and a tasteless troll because I didn't know about your fabrics and whatever other things that got stolen from you. And now I'm in deep shit because you can file a complaint of abuse on my part and… I'm sorry Parkinson. I was just messing with you. That was childish and you are within your right to file a complaint."

She was stunned for a minute. She had been a bitch to him today, but she was very distressed, the stolen goods were very expensive and losing her portfolio meant her collection would be delayed for months until she recreated the whole thing again. Yet again, he did overstep, and now he was offering his head in a silver platter. She studied him for a minute. He was very much a grown-up man now. A very handsome, very single grown-up man, as it was featured almost every week on Witch Weekly. His green eyes were gorgeous and the messy hair and five o'clock shadow made him look rugged but sexy like he was ready to go home and let a willing witch fuck him thoroughly to relax after a long day. And she had a very, very long day. Maybe she could get even with him and have some fun along the way. The Slytherin in her kicked in, and a devious plan formed in her head.

"So, how does the complaint work?" She asked, feigning innocence.

He sigh

"We present our memories to the complaint office. They would assign a case number and after a few days we both get a citation to mediate the case or to proceed with criminal charges if there was excessive force on my part," he said, looking down at his hands.

"So, everything that happens in this room is recorded? You always present your memories?"

He shrugged

"Only if charges are filed, against either of us. If not, there is no need to present memories. Saves space."

She stood up, then slowly walked around the table towards him, her high heels clicking enticingly on the stone floor.

"Tell me something, Auror Potter, do two opposite complaints cancel each other?"

"What?" he said, feeling like a cornered animal.

"Let's say, I have a complaint against you for abuse of power," she said standing behind him, hands on his shoulders, then whispering in his ear "and you have a complaint against me for sexual harassment. Do the complaints cancel each other?"

He swallowed hard.

"What do you mean, sexual harassment?" he said, his breath growing ragged.

She looked down at his trousers. An evident tent was forming there. She smirked and walked around, hands still touching him, then slowly shimmied up her pencil skirt and lifted her perfect leg across his lap to straddle him. His hands went on their own to her arse, and he squeezed, giving a satisfactory growl between his clenched teeth. She rolled her hips in response and captured his lips in a deep, hungry kiss. He pulled her flush against him, kissing her and whispering in between kisses

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, I was so ready for this. I think that's why I arrested you, I think I wanted you alone in a room with me," he confessed, remembering how that morning he kept looking at her mouth, thinking that she would shut up about the stupid rags if he snogged her senseless.

"So, do you want to file a complaint of sexual harassment, Auror Potter?" she said, licking his ear and nibbling at his lobe.

"No, Miss Parkinson, I think I rather bury my cock balls deep in your wet cunt," he said and lifted both of them to sit her on the table.

She went for his belt buckle and undid it quickly, followed by his fly while he ripped her silky blouse open and pulled down the cups of her bra, letting her breasts spill out and grabbing a nipple in his mouth, sucking it hard. She reclined herself on the table, grabbing his hair and moaning sinfully, wrapping her legs around him. He rocked his hips, pressing his hardness on her knickers and making her moan even louder. She felt like she was about to fall over the edge and pushed harder against him, coming in a symphony of glorious sounds. He waited for her to come back from her high, kissing her breasts, her neck, her mouth and trailing back down. When she opened her eyes she decided she didn't want it to end just yet, so she sat up and held on to him to get off the table. She kissed him again before ordering

"Sit, Auror Potter."

He obeyed and she lowered herself to her knees, releasing his cock from his boxers. She looked at it, giving it a slow stroke, making him gasp, then swiped a bead of pre-cum from the tip with her fingertip and licked it lasciviously while looking him in the eyes. He was hypnotized, his eyes glued to her, and when she kissed the tip he cupped her face with his hands and begged

"Pansy, please, I can't take it anymore. Please, let me fuck you."

She lifted herself slowly, guiding his hands to pull down her knickers and when they were off she straddled him again, positioned his cock at her entrance and suddenly impaled herself on him. He moaned loudly, letting his head roll back for a second before coming back to kiss her desperately. He grabbed her firmly by the hips to make her slide up and down on his cock, slow at first, but then she started riding him in ecstasy.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she panted

"Look at me, Pansy, say my name," he implored

"Harry," she said, and it rolled off her tongue like a prayer "Harry," she repeated, "Harry," and his name turned into a delicious mantra that brought them both over the edge.

They held each other tightly for a while, her head leaning on the crook of his neck, his fingers running through her silky black hair while he kept her secured with his other arm.

"I'm sorry I arrested you, he whispered in her ear. That was so wrong."

"I didn't know getting arrested could feel so good," she chuckled softly on his neck, making him smile. "I'm sorry I called you a tasteless troll."

He shrugged, still holding her

"Maybe I am, a little. Maybe you can help me clean up my act?"

"Maybe," she said, smiling.

He switched her on his lap to cradle her, then caressed her face and asked

"Would you come home with me tonight?"

She looked into his pleading green eyes, and the lines of her favorite poem rang in her mind

Not just little bits

Or the best of his love, no

She wants all of it

"Yes."