Pansy had always known how to bake. In order to keep her busy and out of trouble, one of the house elves would always take her into the kitchen and teach her how to bake. She loved baking pies, her specialty being apple pie. The secret was one that was passed down from house elf to house elf for many generations.
When she turned eleven and first received her Hogwarts letter, the elves came together and gave her a recipe book woven with elf magic, so that it would update whenever they came up with a new recipe and to prevent it from wear-and-tear. She would always deny it, but she loved that book more than the expensive, last-minute emerald necklace her parents gave her. She would always light up when she noticed a new recipe appear, even though she didn't have the opportunity to try them out while in Hogwarts. It wouldn't be good for everyone to see Pure-blooded, Slytherin princess Pansy Parkinson loves to bake among the elves, whom everyone thought was below even the Muggles.
During the summers she spent home, she would sneak into the kitchens to bake with the elves. It wasn't sneaking, really, since her parents were never home and if they were, they tended to only see each other during dinner once in a blue moon. When Pansy wasn't being forced to practice the piano or study with her private tutor, she was baking. She loved to experiment with different flavors. She loved expanding her palette with foreign flavors that she had imported from other countries. The spices and herbs added a special "zing" to it.
After the war, her father was sent to Azkaban for 20 years and her mother was in self-exile, running away to France after she took half the Parkinson fortune. To say Pansy was depressed was an understatement. She would lock herself in her room, not coming out for anything. She was finally able to come out after her favorite house elf came into her room with a bit of apple pie. That was what was able to finally convince her to get on up out of bed and take a shower. She was disgusted with herself over the fact that she let herself get like this. A Parkinson did not allow themselves to mope.
…
The next morning, Pansy was carrying an apple pie to the St. Mungo's. She had come to the conclusion that she was going to try to re-build her reputation little by little. She knew that it would not work overnight, but her apple pie was delicious and she was stubborn.
When she showed up at the hospital, people were extremely cautious, as though she was going to poison them. Then Harry Potter arrived. Apparently, Weasley got into an accident and Potter volunteered to bring him in to the hospital. He had just dropped him off and was leaving when he noticed Pansy. Potter had given her a quick glance before focusing his attention at the pie in her hands.
"Is that… apple pie?" he asked incredulously. "Did you make it? It looks like it came from a bakery."
"Yes, and yes I did. Is that a problem?" she snapped as she narrowed her green eyes at him.
"No, it's just that I haven't seen apple pie in the longest time. Especially during the summer."
"Well, just add a scoop of vanilla ice cream and you got yourself a wonderful dessert."
Harry chuckled. He ducked his head and shrugged his shoulders. Glancing at her over the top of his glasses, he simply said, "I like apple pie."
Pansy was stunned. Before she realized it, the boy-who-lived had snatched the apple pie from her hands and served himself a slice. Taking a bite, he let out a low moan that made Pansy unconsciously lick her lips.
"Merlin, this is the best apple pie I ever had." His green eyes seemed to glow as he stared intensely at her.
After that, the hospital staff had no problem accepting her daily pies.
Of course, she made a habit of saving a slice for Potter to pick up during his lunch break at the Aurors.
Potter is a sucker for apple pie and the girl who can bake them. Who would have thought?
