DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and
owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to
Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros.,
Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is
intended.
Author notes: As always... my undying devotion and love to my The Restricted Section EZboard clan. This story is for my Lovely, who makes N/P so much fun.
Also, this story is just a silly bit of fluffy fun. Don't take me seriously. And yes, there are some questions that might be raised here. I have no answers!
I seem to be having Italics Issues. Curses. Oh well, here it is without the dang things! Put emphasis wherever you like!
_____________
A crumpled piece of parchment sailed over Pansy Parkinson's perfect coiffed head.
"Stop it," Pansy commanded without glancing up from her report on Muggle Writing Apparatuses.
Across the room, Neville Longbottom sighed noisily, dropped into his chair and began drumming his fingers against his battered desk.
Pansy narrowed her dark eyes, her annoyance fighting to be unleashed on her coworker of three years. They had been stuck in a tiny office in the Ministry of Magic's Department of Cross-Cultural Corporation since they were both hired directly out of Hogwarts.
"Have you nothing better to do, Longbottom?"
"No."
"What?" Pansy's head snapped up in astonishment. "You finished the Crock Pots v. Cauldrons presentation for the interdepartmental conference?"
"Er, no," Neville flashed his irritated colleague a sheepish smile. "But in all fairness, you asked if I had anything better to do. And I stand by my original answer: No."
Pansy did not respond. She turned her attention back to the alarming Gel Pen Statistics before her.
"It's New Year's Eve, Parkinson!" Neville exclaimed, jumping from his seat and walking across the small room. "Aren't you even a little excited?"
"No."
"I've got an idea," Neville leaned across Pansy's desk and covered her report with one of his large hands. "Let's sneak out of here early. We can go grab a drink."
"Forget it," Pansy yanked her report away from the grinning Neville. "I have a lot of work to do and--"
"'I wouldn't be caught dead with the likes of you, Gryffindor'," Neville shot back in a spot on impression of the Pansy he knew at school.
"Gah!" Pansy slammed her papers down and jumped to her feet, leaning across her desk, her face mere inches away from Neville's. "You are the most infuriating--"
"Knock! Knock!" a cheerful voice interrupted Pansy's heated tirade.
Pansy and Neville swung their heads around to see Emma Dobbs, the assistant to the Head of the Department of Cross-Cultural Corporation, standing in the doorway holding two bottles of champagne.
"Compliments of Mr. Weasley," Emma explained as she plunked the bottles down on Neville's desk. "Also, Mr. Weasley is shutting the Department early today."
"What?" Pansy and Neville cried in unison, although one voice was ecstatic and the other was dismayed.
"Mr. Weasley wanted me to tell you, Miss Parkinson, specifically," Emma continued with an amused spark in her eyes. "That under no circumstances are you to stay here."
"Fine," Pansy sniffed, reaching for her sleek black satchel.
"And you are not to take any work with you."
Pansy froze, her face a picture of comic horror. Neville turned to gather the champagne, but Pansy recognized the movement of his shoulders as barely contained glee.
"Fine," Pansy dropped her satchel and shot a ruthless glare at Mr. Weasley's innocent but entirely too perky assistant. "Come on, Neville."
Neville obediently followed Pansy from the office, casting Emma a grateful smile over his shoulder.
***
"You called me Neville," Neville remarked as he caught up with Pansy in the hall. "In our office. Just then."
"I was angry," Pansy's pale skin flushed as she realized her mistake. "I forgot myself. It shan't happen again."
"Oh," Neville's bright eyes danced in amusement. "It shan't?"
Pansy ignored Neville's teasing. "Good night, Longbottom."
"Happy New Year, Parkinson."
With a loud pop! the two Disapparated.
***
"Honey," Neville called loudly as he shed his formal work robes, leaving him in tan pants and a white shirt. "I'm hoooooome!"
"It's about time," came the muffled response from the couple's bedroom. "I've been here for ages."
Neville rounded the corner into the bedroom and lunged at his enchanting girlfriend. Pansy squealed as Neville's weight knocked her onto the bed.
"Show off," Neville accused, nuzzling her neck. "How do you manage to beat me home every single night?"
"I'm just better at it," Pansy teased, turning in Neville's arms.
"I'm okay with that," Neville decided. "So long as you always do come home."
~~~ The (sappy) End
Author notes: As always... my undying devotion and love to my The Restricted Section EZboard clan. This story is for my Lovely, who makes N/P so much fun.
Also, this story is just a silly bit of fluffy fun. Don't take me seriously. And yes, there are some questions that might be raised here. I have no answers!
I seem to be having Italics Issues. Curses. Oh well, here it is without the dang things! Put emphasis wherever you like!
_____________
A crumpled piece of parchment sailed over Pansy Parkinson's perfect coiffed head.
"Stop it," Pansy commanded without glancing up from her report on Muggle Writing Apparatuses.
Across the room, Neville Longbottom sighed noisily, dropped into his chair and began drumming his fingers against his battered desk.
Pansy narrowed her dark eyes, her annoyance fighting to be unleashed on her coworker of three years. They had been stuck in a tiny office in the Ministry of Magic's Department of Cross-Cultural Corporation since they were both hired directly out of Hogwarts.
"Have you nothing better to do, Longbottom?"
"No."
"What?" Pansy's head snapped up in astonishment. "You finished the Crock Pots v. Cauldrons presentation for the interdepartmental conference?"
"Er, no," Neville flashed his irritated colleague a sheepish smile. "But in all fairness, you asked if I had anything better to do. And I stand by my original answer: No."
Pansy did not respond. She turned her attention back to the alarming Gel Pen Statistics before her.
"It's New Year's Eve, Parkinson!" Neville exclaimed, jumping from his seat and walking across the small room. "Aren't you even a little excited?"
"No."
"I've got an idea," Neville leaned across Pansy's desk and covered her report with one of his large hands. "Let's sneak out of here early. We can go grab a drink."
"Forget it," Pansy yanked her report away from the grinning Neville. "I have a lot of work to do and--"
"'I wouldn't be caught dead with the likes of you, Gryffindor'," Neville shot back in a spot on impression of the Pansy he knew at school.
"Gah!" Pansy slammed her papers down and jumped to her feet, leaning across her desk, her face mere inches away from Neville's. "You are the most infuriating--"
"Knock! Knock!" a cheerful voice interrupted Pansy's heated tirade.
Pansy and Neville swung their heads around to see Emma Dobbs, the assistant to the Head of the Department of Cross-Cultural Corporation, standing in the doorway holding two bottles of champagne.
"Compliments of Mr. Weasley," Emma explained as she plunked the bottles down on Neville's desk. "Also, Mr. Weasley is shutting the Department early today."
"What?" Pansy and Neville cried in unison, although one voice was ecstatic and the other was dismayed.
"Mr. Weasley wanted me to tell you, Miss Parkinson, specifically," Emma continued with an amused spark in her eyes. "That under no circumstances are you to stay here."
"Fine," Pansy sniffed, reaching for her sleek black satchel.
"And you are not to take any work with you."
Pansy froze, her face a picture of comic horror. Neville turned to gather the champagne, but Pansy recognized the movement of his shoulders as barely contained glee.
"Fine," Pansy dropped her satchel and shot a ruthless glare at Mr. Weasley's innocent but entirely too perky assistant. "Come on, Neville."
Neville obediently followed Pansy from the office, casting Emma a grateful smile over his shoulder.
***
"You called me Neville," Neville remarked as he caught up with Pansy in the hall. "In our office. Just then."
"I was angry," Pansy's pale skin flushed as she realized her mistake. "I forgot myself. It shan't happen again."
"Oh," Neville's bright eyes danced in amusement. "It shan't?"
Pansy ignored Neville's teasing. "Good night, Longbottom."
"Happy New Year, Parkinson."
With a loud pop! the two Disapparated.
***
"Honey," Neville called loudly as he shed his formal work robes, leaving him in tan pants and a white shirt. "I'm hoooooome!"
"It's about time," came the muffled response from the couple's bedroom. "I've been here for ages."
Neville rounded the corner into the bedroom and lunged at his enchanting girlfriend. Pansy squealed as Neville's weight knocked her onto the bed.
"Show off," Neville accused, nuzzling her neck. "How do you manage to beat me home every single night?"
"I'm just better at it," Pansy teased, turning in Neville's arms.
"I'm okay with that," Neville decided. "So long as you always do come home."
~~~ The (sappy) End