How very sweet, Pansy thought even as her brow curved in a gentle arch.
Dark eyes watched the scene unfold. One of the trainees dropped her book, perfectly timed just as Harry was passing by going the other direction. Ever the gallant knight that he was, Pansy watched him bend to pick it up and then offer it to the younger blonde.
Her brow arched further as she watched the blonde – Rominda Vane, or some such drivel – smile up at him before lowering her lashes in seeming shyness as she said something to him and proceeded to crack the book open. On cue, the entirely too chivalrous savior of the wizarding world bent over her shoulder as she pointed out something in the text.
Pansy's eyes narrowed slightly. Rocilda Vane was about as shy as Draco Malfoy after he'd had too much firewhiskey, and Pansy knew for a fact she wasn't struggling in Law & Procedures.
She occasionally lectured for the class, after all.
Leaving the arch of the doorway she'd been standing in, Pansy headed towards the pair, her stilettos making a satisfying 'clicking' sound against the marble floors.
"Harry," rolled off her tongue much like every other word she spoke; like melted dark chocolate. "Do you have a moment?"
He'd heard the clip of her heels and he'd felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end at the sound, but her voice all but purring his name had focused his attention to her entirely, and his gaze was dark when he raised it to hers. "What do you want, Parkinson?"
Pansy's lips curled in the tiniest of smiles. She could feel Rocinda Vane scowling at her. "Why you, of course."
He had to force his eyes to stay on her face, though it didn't much matter that he wasn't looking. Harry knew her ample curves; she made sure everyone did with the tight skirt-suits and stilettos she wore. "That simple then," he commented dryly.
"Auror Potter, I was just wondering what you thought of the detaining procedures for unarmed-"
"Yes, that simple." Pansy raised a brow at him, tiny smile still playing at her lips as she spoke right over the blonde trainee. His gaze hadn't left hers, and though he looked somewhat irritated – he always was at her, on principle –Pansy knew when a man was attracted to her, and Harry Potter was.
Gods, the woman was like sin in stilettos. She was a consultant for the department, her expertise in ancient magics making her invaluable especially given the proclivities of the Death Eaters they were still hunting.
She always looked as if she was vastly amused at the goings-on and that tiny smile of hers made him want to shake her as it was more than often directed at him.
She must have had a breakthrough on the case they'd been working on though, and Harry nodded his head shortly before stepping away from … he glanced down - Vane. That's right. "Sorry I couldn't help, Trainee Vane. Excuse me."
Pansy hadn't spared a glance for the blonde, and still didn't as she turned with Harry at her side and left her behind in the hallway. She could feel the daggers in her back though, and it only served to make the tiny smile on her face curve further.
Today. She'd been toying with the idea for months, had been testing the waters for just as long. Today she would taste though. It was ludicrous and Draco thought her quite mad for even entertaining the attraction, but one could not argue with the pound of one's pulse, the quickening of breath and the heat that she could almost lick off of him.
Perhaps she would do that too.
Despite his general surliness in her direction, Harry was ever the gentleman and held the door open for her and then followed behind her into her office.
Once inside, Pansy turned to face him. "I do have a name, Harry."
There it was again. His name on her lips. His given name. Dark green eyes flicked from her lips to the dark eyes looking up at him as if she knew something he didn't. "You wanted me?"
"Yes," she acknowledged, lips twitching in amusement despite the insistent pound of her pulse. He was not aware, but she was aware that his eyes always roamed over her. "Though it's more present tense."
"You want me?" he asked, brow furrowing slightly. She was playing word games and he couldn't find himself surprised, though he was surprised at the sudden warmth in the room.
"Quite," she replied, closing the distance between them and reaching for his tie.
He caught her hands in both of his before she could touch him. "What are you doing, Parkinson?"
"Fixing your tie," she replied calmly after she'd recovered the tiny exhale his grasp had caused. Lids heavy, she looked up at him. "I do have a name," she repeated again.
Warm. It was very warm, though he didn't know why, and he looked at her a long moment. She wasn't harmless by far, but there was nothing she could do to him with her bare hands that he couldn't stop, and so he released them. "I'm aware you have a name. What is it that you wanted?"
"You," she replied calmly as she reached again, fingers deftly undoing the tie. "And I'd appreciate it if you used my given name, Harry," she added, pulling the knot out of the material until it hung loosely around his neck.
Harry frowned as he looked down at what she'd done to his tie and then back to the woman herself. Green eyes were caught as she wet her lips, but moved on after a long moment until he met her heavy lidded gaze. Sin on stilettos, he thought again.
"You want me for what?" he asked, hands going to his tie. "To undo my tie so I have to retie it? What do you want, Parkinson?"
"Pansy," she said, hands catching his so that his gaze came to hers. "I want you to call me Pansy," she continued as she moved his hands away from his tie.
She was not unaware that she was about to step across a line that might backfire, but there was heat like a living thing between them, making her want. She could feel it in him, see it in the way he looked at her, the way he moved around her; like he was hunting. He didn't mean to, she knew, but his eyes always followed her, heavy even from across a room. He never touched her on purpose, but Harry was drawn to her space as much as she was drawn to his; even now he was leaning towards her, towering over her.
"Can you do that, Harry?" she asked.
Her voice drew his gaze from where her hands clasped him – soft, he noted – to her dark gaze on him. His next breath brought her scent to him, something he could identify as her, but had never had coat his tongue as if he could taste her as well. "Pansy."
"Very good," she murmured, pulse pounding as she stirred into movement. Her lids were heavy, but she kept his gaze as she set the larger hands she clasped on her waist. He watched her, and didn't resist, and for the first time since she had begun spending the bulk of her time in the MLE, Pansy could not read his expression.
He did not push her away, or pull away though, and she took one step closer so that she could feel the heat of his body as she reached for either side of his tie hanging around his neck and tugged.
Slow motion. He felt as if he was watching from outside himself, the whole scene surreal and moving in slow motion. Pansy wanted him. She wanted him. … she wanted him?
Breath shared as he was now bent over her, Pansy stopped just short of pressing her lips to his. His hands were warm, heavy on her waist, but he'd yet to move them from where she'd set them. "One more time, Harry?" she breathed, lips brushing his as she spoke.
It was her voice that snapped him back to the present, and all the heat building back and forth between them hit him at one time, his eyes going dark with it. "Pansy," he said, voice rough.
"Very, very good," she breathed before she tugged on his tie and pressed her lips to his.
Harry had known what she was going to do, but the reality of it held him still for a long moment. Pansy Parkinson was snogging him in her office. The one woman that irritated the hell out of him was snogging him in her office.
It was only when she began to pull away that a growl rumbled from him. One of his hands slid around her back even as the other rose to twine in her hair. Tipping her face up, he captured her lips as he pulled her flush against him. Thought was distant, but her pulling away had been a rather insistently negative one.
So wrong. She knew this, had known it all along, but as she opened her mouth to him and he splayed his hand over her back, Pansy couldn't find it in herself to care. At all. It felt so very right.
Soft, supple, giving. It was overwhelming, and Harry drank like a man in a drought. Every gasp, every hitch of breath, every little sound he swallowed. He'd never kissed a woman like this before. He'd kissed more than a few, but never like this, not like she was the air he couldn't get enough of. When her fingers twined in his hair, pulling, Harry lost all thought and both his hands curved over her arse, pulling her against him even as his hips rolled into hers.
Oh gods. Beyond tasting him, Pansy hadn't thought further, hadn't been able to. It was Harry. There'd been doubt whether he would even let her, but just that moment all such thoughts were far, far away. It was heat that filled her, heat that made the soft moan slip her lips, and heat that made her pull at his hair again to pull herself up his body, feel him again.
It was her moan that slowed him, but only just. What he wanted was to swipe the desk clear and get her to make more of those sounds, but what he did was force his hands back to her small waist, force himself to pull back until it was just heavy breathing they shared.
"Pansy," was just a gust of air this time.
"Yes, Harry," she breathed, lids heavy as she rolled her gaze up to his, a Cheshire grin curling her lips. "Very good."