Pansy stood behind Harry, appreciative of Boy Wonder's arse, pert, in those pyjama bottoms he wears to bed. Harry insisted on making breakfast the muggle way, spouting something about reclaiming breakfast from all the times that his awful relatives forced him to, - anyway, back to his arse, her arse. She took her gaze up to, Merlin, his muscled torso, taut from all that Auror activities, and Pansy had to stop herself from sighing wistfully like some pathetic school girl. Although, if Pansy were being completely honest, arse and abs were great but she's always been fond of his messy hair; those unruly nest of a hair that made the pristine look of his Auror robe look just a smidge less perfect, less surreal.
She loved it.
She reached out and wrapped both arms around Harry, her cheek resting in the middle of his back, his body heat delicious.
"Morning," Harry greeted, turning himself a little to allow her to hug him sideways before placing a kiss on her forehead.
"Do I have you for the whole day?" Pansy asked, knowing how demanding Harry's work can get and how restless he can be without climbing his way to the top. But, like Pansy always say, why climb up the corporate ladder when he can be climbing her person instead.
"I'm all yours," sunlight shone through the kitchen window, illuminating Harry with an ethereal glow which made her breath catch a little in her throat.
She cleared her throat and gave Harry a coy look, a look she knew she'd perfected. It was a work hazard really, she's what muggles called a beauty blogger. Harry's been supportive even though he had no idea what she talked about half the time but that's ok, they had a rule to not bring work home.
Harry had moaned about the amount of complete strangers following her on YouTube, - a million followers, who needed that much? Harry noted how he could've used those numbers in the War. He'd been unnerved and paranoid at some of the comments she's gotten online, especially the unsolicited dick pics following a yoga video, which she promptly sent to her friends for some much needed laughter. They've even made a game out of it. She remembered how they'd argued about it until Pansy's shown how those yoga practice benefitted them both - it made her much more flexible and Harry, much more pliant about the situation.
She has an assistant to sort through her comments now.
"Harry," Pansy simpered, coiling her arms up to his neck and pressing a small kiss to the side of his mouth.
Harry smiled, humming a little.
"Be in a video with me?"
Harry raised a brow.
"I've let slip a second long footage of you in a towel and now my subscribers are going ballistic in the comments, demanding answers about the mysterious figure in the background," Pansy curved both arms around Harry's neck, a small pout on her lips.
"Love, you don't let slip anything," Harry accused.
"Oops," She let out a cheshire-like grin.
"What's this about then?" Harry asked, his tone soft and gentle, indulgent.
"I'm reaching 2 million subscribers and I wanted to do something special. It's time for them know just a little bit more about their favourite girl … and her favourite guy," Pansy still had a grin on but her eyes were soft.
"They've no idea do they? About us?"
"Not a one."
"Pansy Parkinson, letting me out of her dark closet after all these years, finally making an honest man out of me," Harry teased.
Pansy made a noise of disapproval.
Despite Pansy being a public figure to some extent in the muggle world, she's fiercely private, guarding her world as close to her as possible. She'd managed to tell everything to her viewers and yet, absolutely nothing at the same time. That included Harry and their private life.
Over the years, Harry's kept an observation about Pansy to himself, never mentioning it to her in fear of retaliation. She's akin to a snake and him, an egg in her nest - hissing at anyone who comes near. Harry's always been attracted to strong women, it's bloody arousing when Pansy tries to protect him. Harry's well, Harry Potter , and that name comes with a fuckton of expectations. He knew he had to put a ring on her when she boldly flipped her middle finger to the Daily Prophet while leading them out of a restaurant once, her left hand tightly gripping his.
Pansy allowed Harry to just be - it was liberating.
"Don't you have Malfoy to do this with? I heard he's been in some of your videos."
"Of course, it's in the spirit of collaboration."
Harry snorted.
"It's all about the connections, Harry," Pansy explained, "Half of my viewers think I'm shagging Malfoy. They've even written fanfictions about us -"
"Merlin's balls Pans, that's disturbing and bloody disgusting," Harry interrupted.
"Therefore, the idea that I'm single and may or may not be having a forbidden love affair with Draco retains my viewers and you know high numbers mean income -"
"Like we need that," Harry muttered under his breath.
" - because they've conjured a melodrama in their heads, always speculating but never knowing the truth. It's that illusion of an ideal life that keeps them coming back, they live vicariously through me. Hermione doesn't want to be on screen, much like you so it became an inside joke for us to be each other's 'boy'friend and 'girl'friend. You know nothing will happen between Draco and I so we can both keep doing what we do best without pesky things like our spouses getting jealous. The viewers eat that shite up. Truly, I'm just here to provide a service."
It's always something with Slytherins.
"I see. In that case, why don't we give them something else to talk about," Harry looped his arms around her waist and kissed her softly and slowly, taking his time to take her in - her scent, her taste and the feel of her against him.
It's not all fire with them though, he enjoys the quiet heat that comes with the aftermath of winning their right to be together. They had time now, they could afford all the unhurried kisses in the world.
There was a time when this wasn't possible, ... they weren't possible.
"Harry," Pansy whispered, breathing Harry in, her toes curling.
The sound of their soft sighs filled the kitchen and breakfast was soon forgotten.
At 3pm in the afternoon, Pansy was too made up; makeup and clothes meticulously thought of. It's a contrast to how messy she looked at breakfast.
"Do we have plans tonight that I've forgotten?"
"No, we dont."
Harry blinked.
"Then why are you all dressed up?"
"It's my job to look good, Harry."
"Let me rephrase that, why are you all dressed up from the bottom up but wearing only knickers from the bottom down?"
Pansy gave him a predatory smile, "It's your incentive."
Oh.
"Right, so how do I do this?" Harry looked around Pansy's studio with enchanted lights and camera set up professionally in one of their many empty rooms. The bright lights reminiscent of the flashes from Rita Skeeter's intrusive interviews.
"Basically, we answer preset questions about us."
Harry waited for her to continue but she didn't, "That's it? Alright, that sounds easy enough."
"Don't be so sure, Potter. We all know how bad you are with remembering dates."
"Only the unimportant ones," Harry defended himself.
Pansy smiled, "lucky for you."
Pansy had written down the questions and handed it to Harry, giving him time to think about the answers.
"I'll start recording now."
Harry watched in fascination as his wife comfortably talked to a camera, giving an introduction to the video. It never ceases to amaze Harry how adapted Pansy's become to all things muggle, considering her job. He noted how ironically, it's him who have had things explained to by her.
Here goes nothing.
Disclaimer, I do not own Harry Potter.
This has been in my google docs for some time so I've decided to post. I've no idea why Hansy does it for me but it does. Enjoy! provocative_envy has something to do with it, she writes them beautifully.